House Of Black: First Impressions
by Little Fire Thief
Summary: Hers. His. A tangled web of jealousy and betrayal that bore the lone heir of an ancient house. Watch out, Hogwarts. Corvus R.R. Black is on his way. Better Summary Inside. May contain spoilers up to DH. Formerly titled 'The House Of Black: Year One'.
1. Prologue

_See, I saw all these stories where Sirius has a daughter who befriends Harry or Draco, so I thought, what if he had a _son_? Not very original, I know, but please bear with me as I have never tried this sort of thing before. Basically this story will follow Corvus (real constellation, look it up) through first year with Harry and the gang. _

_I've also twisted a few things here for plot purposes. Walburga Black supposedly died soon after Regulus, right? At least that's what I've read, but I need her alive here, so I've made her old and sickly, but still hanging in there. I also gave the Blacks another house elf. Also, Corvus' mother is an OC, and so, obviously, is Corvus. If there are any issues, please tell me so I can improve!_

_Story will mostly centre around Corvus for a chapter or two, but then they're at Hogwarts so it'll focus more around Harry. Of course, that's after the prologue. Hang in there for your cliché goodness, guys. Also, I'm not sure how loyal Labradors are, but I'm assuming they're pretty dang loyal. So please don't shoot me. And at least try to enjoy my shoddy, pathetic excuse for a prologue._

_Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter... well, I don't think you want to know. Trust me _XD _But I don't_ DX

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James Potter was a lucky man. He had the world's wittiest and most wonderful wife, a best friend who was literally as loyal as a Labrador and a knack for alliteration. He was young, handsome, popular, filthy rich, intelligent, and most importantly, he had the heart of a lion. James Potter would have had it made, if there wasn't a war on.

You see, James was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a group fighting the evil forces of Lord Voldemort, the Death Eaters. After all, Voldemort was not a particularly nice man- nor was he young, and he certainly didn't have the heart of a lion. No, Voldemort had an ideal. He wished to purge the world of its non-magical inhabitants (thus unwittingly ensuring that within two centuries the entire human race would have become extinct due to the common cold, and all have around sixteen toes and fingers- he didn't really plan much ahead). James was dedicated to stopping this evil, alongside his wife, Lily, and his best friends, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew (who later turned out to be a big fat traitor who should be fed to the nearest alley cat on sight).

Anyway, an applicant for the position of Divination teacher at James' old school, Hogwarts, made a thoroughly interesting prophecy that directly applied to James' newborn son, Harry, and the Potters were forced into hiding in order to protect the child. In an attempt to get Voldemort to _go away,_ they placed a charm on their home- only their Secret Keeper could divulge their whereabouts. It was unfortunate, then, that they gave their friend Peter the job of Secret Keeper as opposed to their first choice, James' all-time best friend (and favourite mutt) Sirius, because Peter scurried straight off to Voldemort and got both James and Lily killed, as well as Sirius thrown in the wizard prison Azkaban and Remus nearing a mental breakdown.

But you know that story. The story we shall look at now, is the story of a young woman named Isabel Robinson. She was a sassy, attractive woman, intelligent, but definitely ruled by her emotions. She had been to Hogwarts with James, Lily, Sirius, Remus and Peter, who had been known as the popular kids. She was popular, too, just not that popular. She'd dated Sirius a few times, who was infatuated with her, though he pretended not to be, ladies man that he was.

But Isabel was in love with James.

Of course, she knew that James loved Lily. The two of them were meant for each other, even she could see that, even though she prayed every night that he'd come to _her_ door and not Lily's. Needless to say, it never happened, and the day after Lily and James' engagement was announced, she turned to her only source of comfort- the man she knew would do anything for her, Sirius Black.

Time passed and the new Mrs Black found herself pregnant. She liked to pretend it was James' baby, and was over the moon when Sirius asked her if it would be alright if James and Lily were the godparents. Soon after, Lily became pregnant. Isabel entertained daydreams of switching the children and running away with the little piece of James that was his child. They'd never know.

She never found out whether she had the guts to go through with it or not because James' and Lily went into hiding. Sirius told her their plan was foolproof, that James would be fine. Isabel nursed her baby through its eighteen months of life during this time. He was pale, like Isabel, but had his father's grey eyes and thick black hair. She could tell he'd be handsome like Sirius when he was older, though his features would be more delicate than his father's. Perhaps he and Harry would be friends. Then she could see James whenever she liked.

On October 31st, 1981, Isabel received the news that James and Lily had been murdered by Voldemort and the baby had been sent to Lily's relatives. Sirius had been the Secret Keeper. Sirius had betrayed her. She left her child- no, _his_ child, a _foul_, _loathsome_ _thing_- on the doorstep of Sirius' parents' house. She hoped the _thing's_ grandmother would kill it. Isabel then attempted suicide and was taken to St Mungo's for life-saving treatment- and therapy.

The child was found by Kreacher the House Elf the next morning. Kreacher loved his mistress dearly, so he immediately placed the baby in the drawing room. Following this, he hurried up the stairs to his mistress' room. She demanded to see the baby, even if it was the child of her blood traitor son who had always hated Kreacher.

And so, Corvus Remus Regulus Black was raised by his grandmother, Walburga Black, at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, believing his father was a murderer and his mother a madwoman.

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_About Corvus' house, quickly... For plot reasons I will probably put him in Gryffindor but that is subject to change if you get your say in quick enough. One thing I _will_ say though- he'll either go in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, unless you can make a really convincing case for the good ol' Hufflepuffs or those deliciously nasty Slytherins. And I'm taking votes for whether this should be slash or not- I'm not big on writing romance but I can throw in some fluff if you want me to._

_Read and review please! I can't improve without you!_


	2. Chapter One: Failed Escape

_Okay. Starts kind of lame, ends kind of lame, nowhere near what I wanted it to be but I want to get to the bit with Harry so I'm kind of forcing this out... Yeah, I know, bad form but I just, y'know, want to make this story a decent length, right? That... doesn't make much sense, does it? _

_Anyway, this is five years later. Corvus is a lot more like his dad than he thinks._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Now wait here while I go and fetch my frying pan._

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"CORVUS!"

"Young master!"

"Young master Corvus!"

A six-year-old boy snickered quietly as his family- Grandmother, and the House Elves Kreacher and Oggy- searched for him. Grandmother wanted him to play with Cousin Draco again while she had tea with Cousin Cissy, but Draco was too bossy and no fun. He never wanted to go on adventures outside- not that Grandmother approved of Corvus' 'adventures' into Muggle London- and so the little maniac was hiding under the big mahogany desk in Grandfather's old study. Not that Grandfather was around to actually use the study, but still.

Corvus heard Oggy pause in the study doorway. No one was allowed in here, not even the elves, so why would Corvus break the rule? The child stifled a giggle that he knew she had heard.

Oggy herself sighed. She couldn't stand having to decide between an old order and a new one. In the end, she settled for a bit of both, and told her Mistress that she hadn't _seen_ Young Master Corvus, thus obeying Mistress' order to look for Young Master and Young Master's order to not ever tell Mistress if he was in the study.

Corvus knew that he would have to wait for a few hours before Grandmother was fully engrossed in her chatter with Cousin Cissy. They did love to talk. He made a face at the thought. It shouldn't be possible to talk so much. To while away the time, he dragged a plush, dark green cushion from the desk chair and settled down to read. _But what to read?_ There were just so many books.

To understand just how many books there were, you must first have an idea of the layout of the room. When entering the room, the first thing one would see was the desk. Neatly arranged upon the surface were several bottles of ink, a range of quills, and several expensive-looking books of parchment. There were two armchairs facing each other in front of the desk, as well as the ornate mahogany chair behind the desk (that Corvus was currently hiding under). On the wall behind the desk was a huge arched window, looking down on the street below.

The walls were covered in books. Bookshelves stretched up to the high ceiling, curved around the window and door, and covered every tiny speck of wall space in the entire room. And they were double-layered, too.

Not that Corvus understood most of the books, a lot of them didn't make any sense- _Moste Potente Potions_, for one, was a little too complicated, but he liked the pictures, they were just so gross. _Hogwarts, A History_, was in one dusty, secluded corner along with all of Dad and Uncle Regulus' other school books. He'd tried to read that one, but failed miserably because he didn't know what half the words meant and had gotten bored by the end of the first chapter.

So he pondered silently which book he should read. While he pondered, he climbed up onto the window sill and hid behind the curtain.

Corvus liked to look out of that window, and pretend he was allowed to play with the Muggle children down in the street. They had such interesting games- one where they took turns hitting each other; another one where they all left one person behind and that person had to look for them and then hit them for leaving; one in which they had a ball that looked vaguely like a Quaffle, and they kicked it at each other and tried to make each other trip. It looked quite fun.

But all the children were afraid of the residents of Number Twelve, seeing as the old lady gave them nasty looks and the little boy wasn't allowed out to play. They'd come to the conclusion that Corvus was cursed. After all, he had a funny name and a scary grandma and wasn't allowed out of the house, and he was always wearing a dress. Corvus wasn't unduly bothered by this. He liked to scare them sometimes, when they were mean to him, so he supposed their assumptions were probably entirely justified.

The child sighed gently. Maybe he _should_ go and play with Cousin Draco. It would be better than this.

As he was dragging his feet to the door of the study, something under the desk caught his eye. Something shiny. Corvus, who had always loved shiny things, pounced, and discovered it was a small key, about the same length as his handspan. There was a groove on the underside of the desk where it could fit. He must have jolted it out when he was hiding.

He slipped it into his pocket, shrugged, and wandered upstairs to find Cousin Draco.

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Several hours later, Corvus was seriously regretting his decision to play with the whiny blonde. He'd promised Grandmother he would play nicely, but it was just so _hard_ when Draco was always complaining about _everything_. Once again, Corvus found himself seeking refuge, but this time in Dad's bedroom- no one had been in there for eleven years, so it was the perfect hiding place.

Except Draco had followed him.

"Ew, what is this room?" complained Draco, taking in the red and gold nature of everything around him, the muggle pictures on the walls, and the generic mess of a teenager's room. "It's all Griffin-_dork_."

"Go away Draco! This is my dad's room and you're not allowed in here!" Corvus snapped, hauling himself onto the bed and glaring down at his cousin haughtily.

"Yeah well your dad's a murderer!"

"Yeah well your dad smells funny!"

"He does not!"

"And he looks like a girl!"

"Does not!"

"Does too!"

"DOES NOT!"

Neither of the children had noticed the fact that both of them looked more like girls than Draco's father. Draco's features were delicate, to say the least, and Corvus' black hair was long enough to reach his waist in a braid, not to mention the fact that they were both wearing green robes. They looked more like a pair of little girls than a pair of little boys.

The squabble was interrupted by sudden raucous laughter from a small portrait. Neither boy had noticed it before, so they turned to it with some confusion. It contained four teenage boys in another red and gold decorated room, obviously in a different house. Two of the boys in the portrait were leaning on each other, crying with laughter. One gentle-looking boy was chuckling quietly while the fourth boy, a chubby, mousy boy, looked on in confusion.

"My dear Padfoot," gasped one of the laughing boys, "I think your son exceeds you in the immaturity department!"

"My dear Prongs," replied the other, "I must agree with him! Old Lucius does look like a woman!"

"DOES NOT!!" screeched Draco, red-faced with anger and embarrassment. When the laughter increased, he fled the room, sobbing. No one had ever _laughed_ at him before, except Corvus, but Corvus was a meanie.

Corvus himself stared up at the portrait in wonder. "Hi. I'm Corvus."

"Yes, yes, we know," said the gentle-looking boy. "I'm Moony. That's Wormtail"- he indicated the small boy who had yet to say anything, then the two who were still laughing and wiping their eyes-"and that's Padfoot and Prongs."

"Wow," Corvus breathed. "Will you be my friends? Cousin Draco's silly."

"Of course we will!" Prongs and Padfoot replied indignantly, and, unfortunately, in unison, which caused them to dissolve into laughter again.

Moony sighed. "What am I going to do with them?"

Corvus giggled. He felt like he was made of air- he had friends! Friends! Even if they were only a painting, they had to count for something, right?

* * *

_Like I said, ends kind of lame. I know that in canon it's a photo, but the portrait was needed, otherwise Corvus will be brainwashed by his family and Harry will hate him. That would just eat the plot and belch it out into a pond full of sharks, y'see, so it can't happen. And I wanted to set the tone for the relationship between Draco and Corvus. They pick on each other like cousins should X3_

_I still need reviews! I need you guys to tell me which house you want Corvus to be in and what pairings you would like to see! They can be het or slash (femslash included) so go nuts, as long as they aren't complete crack pairings. I mean, I love crack pairings, but they just wouldn't make sense. that's why they're called CRACK pairings XD_


	3. Chapter Two: Table Party

_I felt like another chapter with Draco and Corvus, even if it is shamefully short- I really like their interaction, and, besides, Draco's going to be a pretty established part of the story, so… yeah. And I just sort of had this urge to show how often they go to these high society parties, 'cause that plays an important part after their first term at Hogwarts. Ha ha ha… *shifty eyes*_

_Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter, but I do own Corvus, his mother, Oggy the House Elf, and anyone else you don't recognise. I also own the portrait of the Marauders on Sirius' bedroom wall._

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Draco hated parties. They were always the same. He would accompany Mother and Father, and Great Aunt Walburga would bring Cousin Corvus. The same women would fuss over the two nine-year-olds for a little while, but soon after would leave them to their own devices as the adults spoke about more mature things. Draco and Corvus would sit together in a corner in silence, neither of them willing to risk the argument they knew was inevitable if they started talking to each other. Later, Draco would fall asleep, swiftly followed by Corvus, and they would wake up just in time to go home with their mutual relatives.

And so, when Draco's father announced that they would be attending a party hosted by Minister Fudge, he immediately asked whether Great Aunt Walburga would also be going. Upon receiving confirmation, he proceeded to throw a temper tantrum.

Four hours later found Draco dressed in emerald green dress robes, his white blonde hair slicked back and a scowl plastered on his face as he was introduced to various other guests. His only consolation was that, across the room, Corvus, in black dress robes and his hair in a ponytail, was facing the same torture.

As usual, the two of them found themselves sat together, this time under a table, where they could not be seen. Draco sniffed in displeasure at this predictable turn of events, causing Corvus to laugh softly. "How do you, Cousin Draco?"

"Well," replied the blonde haughtily. "And you, Cousin Corvus?"

The other boy shrugged. "Well, I suppose."

"You 'suppose'? Why 'suppose'?"

"Life has been boring as of late."

Draco pushed Corvus to the side in order to make enough room to lie down. "No more excursions in to Muggle London? I thought you'd found a bookshop you liked. One that sold- what are they called? Comma books?"

"Comic books," said Corvus quietly, tugging at his hair, "But Grandmother found my stash, and incinerated them. I can't leave the house without Kreacher following me now. I really wanted to find out that conclusion of that battle, too…"

Draco snorted. Corvus scowled at him. "Shut up! At least I don't have to spend all my time with the mini-trolls and that Parkinson brat."

"Yeah, well."

The two lapsed into silence again. A few minutes passed as they watched shoes pass by the gap under the tablecloth. Draco began to name the owners of each pair as they passed. "Mother. Umbridge. Bones. Cresswell…"

"Crouch Senior," added Corvus. "Scamander. Cousin Lucius… Draco, your father really does wear girl shoes. Are you sure he's a man?"

"We've had this conversation before," Draco snapped. "Of course he's a man. And he doesn't wear girl shoes."

"When?"

Both of them paused. Draco broke the silence after a few moments. "Three years ago. We went up to your father's old bedroom and got into an argument about whether Father was womanly or not."

"And I said he smelled funny, didn't I?" Corvus smirked, his memory resurfacing. "And you ran away like a little girl because a painting laughed at you."

"Oh, shut up."

The bitter expression that crossed his cousin's face at the mention of the painting was not lost on Draco, but he, quite frankly, couldn't care less. Later, when he was lying in bed that night, he would wonder, and wish he'd asked, but for the moment, he promptly forgot about it, and they continued bickering like the children they were.

Corvus' mind, however, was not on the squabble at hand, but on the ruined frame still Permanently Stuck to the wall of his father's old bedroom, its contents burned beyond all recognition, and the directions he'd received from the Padfoot in the portrait. He repeated them to himself in his mind as he continued to counter every single insult thrown at him by his cousin.

_In Orion's, that is, my father's, your grandfather's, study, stuck to the bottom of the desk is a key. Take the key, and turn to your right. Remove the books from the bottom shelf in the corner, behind the old school books. In each corner of the back panel, there is a keyhole, and each of them has a number in roman numerals. Unlock them in the order, 367, 741, 900, 582, and remove the panel. Behind it is a box. Use its contents wisely- that is, cause as much mayhem as you like._

And mayhem he would cause.

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_So, pretty bad ending, but well. That's endings for you. Review please?_


	4. Chapter Three: Robes for Lame Occasions

**May I present to you, another time skip. Anyway, today we meet Harry! Mostly conversation, they're just getting to know each other, and I hope you like it.... I'm not all that happy with it, but, well. I never am. I hate being a perfectionist.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, do own Corvus/Isabel/Oggy, blahdy blah blah.**

**Enjoy.**

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**31st July 1991**

"I don't want to."

Walburga Black, Pureblood, 71 years old, bedridden, mother of two, was currently battling with her only grandson. No matter what she said or did, promised or threatened, whispered or bellowed, he _would not listen_. Somehow, he'd managed to become as _bloody stubborn as his father_! "Corvus. You are going to Diagon Alley with your cousin Narcissa and that is final. You will go upstairs and change into clean robes, and then you will allow Oggy to brush your hair. Narcissa will be here at ten and I want you ready before then."

"I don't _want_ to."

The grandson in question stood with his arms folded, a messy, loose braid falling down his back to his shoulder blades, a scowl fixed on his face as he studied the fireplace directly to his right as though he expected Narcissa to appear at any moment. Of course, she knew not to Floo into her Great Aunt's private bedchambers on pain of disownment, but Corvus need never worry about such things- Walburga usually doted on him.

Except now.

"Corvus," she snapped, "Get to your room and change out of those filthy things or I will not allow you to take those tatty old books with you to Hogwarts. And I shan't overlook it if you aren't in Slytherin."

Corvus scuffed his feet as he left the room, muttering something along the lines of "you wouldn't do anything about it _anyway_."

* * *

Corvus stood on a stool in Madam Malkin's, sulking. He hated being fitted for robes; usually, he convinced Oggy to resize them when they got too small, but now he needed school robes. Yuck. He'd have to spend nine months every year wearing a uniform, making him look like everyone else, and he'd have to wear one of those, stupid, annoying pointed hats. He'd have complained to Draco, who was stood next to him, also being fitted, if the blonde wasn't already whining about it.

"And I shall look exactly like everyone else, even though--"

"Even though we're all obviously beneath you, yeah, I get it Draco!" Corvus snapped, irritated by the similarities between the two's way of thinking. Draco was silent for a few moments.

The black-haired boy desperately searched for something to occupy his limited attention span as his cousin's whining sputtered back into life when the shop assistant hemming his robes accidentally pricked his leg with a pin. _Oh Merlin, save me from this obnoxious brat…_

"Hogwarts, dear?"

Corvus' eyes snapped over to the entrance of the shop. A small, thin boy with messy black hair and round glasses held together with tape was being led towards the third stool, in between the two cousins. A silent prayer of gratitude was sent to the powers-that-be for this worthy distraction.

Unfortunately, Draco was also interested in the newcomer.

"Are you first year too? You look too young to be a first year."

The boy blushed and mumbled something. Corvus, as bored as he was, practically leapt to the boy's rescue, smiling pleasantly at him. "Please excuse my cousin, Draco, he was dropped on his head as a baby. I'm Corvus."

The boy smiled hesitantly. "Uh, I'm Harry."

"Nice to meet you, Harry. You muggle-born, or Pureblood?"

"I, uh, I'm not sure."

"Oh, all right."

Draco sniffed, obviously loathing the fact that he was being left out of the conversation. "So, what house are you going to be in? I'm going to Slytherin. If I was in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave."

"No you wouldn't," interrupted Corvus, "Your _dearest daddy_ would transfer you to Durmstrang after a sound hiding. Of the school board, that is."

"At least my father's not in jail."

"At least my dad's not a woman."

"My father is not a woman!"

* * *

Harry watched the exchange between the two boys with barely concealed amazement. He'd expected them to be like him and Dudley, when they said they were cousins, but they seemed closer, more like friends. He voiced his thought; he received a glare from the blonde and a bark-like laugh from the boy named Corvus, who proceeded to fill him in on what the houses were.

"Well, Slytherin is the house for the sneaky, cunning, self-preserving people, most of our family were those. Gryffindor is for brave, reckless people. Then there's the house for the smart people, that's Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff is for the ones who are friendly and loyal."

At this, Draco snorted. "Bunch of idiots."

"You know that Cousin Nymphadora was a Hufflepuff, don't you, Draco?"

"We don't talk about her."

Harry glanced between them, perplexed. "Why not?"

"Andromeda was disowned," Corvus said airily. "She married a muggle-born. Since Nymphadora is their daughter, she's supposedly not part of the family, but my dad was disowned, too, and I'm the heir. Grandmother's logic doesn't make sense."

Before Harry could ask any more questions, Madam Malkin interrupted the conversation. "You're done, boys."

Each boy collected a parcel from the counter and they headed out of the shop together to wait for Hagrid and Draco's mother. Corvus seemed like a fun person, and while Draco was a bit spoilt he didn't seem too bad. Harry liked to hear about their large family, but didn't miss Corvus' muttered comment about inbreeding. Eventually they ended up chattering aimlessly about Quidditch (the concept of which Harry still couldn't fully grasp) until Hagrid rounded the corner, towering above the crowd. Harry pointed him out excitedly.

"There he is! Hey, Hagrid!" he shouted, jumping up and down and waving. Corvus burst out laughing.

"Harry, you look like an idiot!" scolded Draco. "Calm down!"

Soft laughter came from behind them and Harry turned to see a beautiful blonde woman standing behind them. She was clearly Draco's mother- they had the same high cheekbones and grey eyes. Harry found himself wondering if the entire family had eyes in different shades of grey.

"A'right, Harry?" Hagrid said. "We'd best be off to get yer wand now."

"Oh, uh, yeah," Harry glanced nervously at his new friends. Corvus grinned back in a similar manner, tugging on his hair.

"See you on the Hogwarts Express, Harry?"

"Of course we will," announced Draco. "Harry hasn't told us anything about himself, has he?"

Harry shook his head, smiling, and turned to go with Hagrid, but something passed between the friendly giant and Corvus, prompting the boy to hurry away after his cousins.

Time seemed to freeze as Harry processed what had just happened. Draco and his mother hadn't noticed the utterly disgusted look that Hagrid had directed at Corvus, or the minute flinch on the other boy's part that had followed. But Harry had.

And, by Merlin, he was going to find out what it meant.

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**So there you have it. The Diagon Alley scene. Wasn't too bad, was it? Feel free to throw pie at me. **

**Anyway, next chapter: The Hogwarts Express! Meet Crabbe and Goyle! And enter... the Weasley Zone.**


	5. Chapter Four: Packed and Leaving

_Hey there. Sorry it's a bit late, but, well. I've had exams. I was going to post this last night, but my computer decided to be a prat. But on the good side, they're on the train to Hogwarts! Next chapter has the Sorting. Uh... Enjoy please!_

_Disclaimer- check the beginning of the story, yo._

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The sound of a train whistle pierced the morning air. The platform was engulfed by a mad scramble of last-minute farewells, tearful parents and excited children. Teenagers dragged trunks onto the train, stowing them in overhead luggage racks before leaning out of windows to kiss their parents goodbye. It was eleven o'clock on September 1st and the Hogwarts Express was leaving Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

Halfway down the train, in an almost empty compartment, two young boys drew back from the window as the train drew away from the platform and a tearful blonde woman frantically waving goodbye. Several minutes passed before one of them broke the silence, suppressed amusement present in his tone.

"I never thought the thing to make Cissy lose her decorum would be watching you leave for Hogwarts."

"Oh, shut up," Draco replied, dropping into a seat. Time had softened the dislike between the two, but the playful insults had merely become more eloquent, particularly on Corvus' part. Draco smoothed back his blonde hair as his cousin sat opposite him.

"Excited?"

"Not really."

Both of them knew this wasn't true. They'd both been packed for a month.

Corvus grinned suddenly. "Rather be at Durmstrang?"

Draco flushed. He was about to retort when the compartment door slid open to admit a small girl with an upturned nose, flanked by the two Corvus called "The Mini-Trolls"- a pair of beefy, stupid-looking boys in matching shoes. The girl proceeded to launch herself onto Draco, squealing, "Draco, darling! How I've missed you so!"

Corvus disguised a snort of laughter with a fit of coughing as Pansy Parkinson draped herself over Draco, resting her head on his shoulder, and conveniently neglected to mention how her parents would react to seeing her clinging to the fiancé of the younger Greengrass girl. After all, he was having far too much fun, and he didn't want her to remember the arranged marriage she'd been entered into either. Draco's pained grimace and forced greeting were well worth the reprimands should this ever get out.

The two large boys gingerly sat down opposite each other, the slightly larger boy next to Corvus and the other on the side of Pansy that didn't hold a panicked Draco. Corvus stretched lazily, partly to taunt Draco who was being crushed in Pansy's iron grip, and grinned at the two boys. "So, Vince, Greg, how's life?"

Vincent Crabbe smiled stupidly. "Can't wait to get to school."

His slightly smaller counterpart, Gregory Goyle, nodded happily in agreement. "Yeah. S'gonna be like a big sleepover for all year. No parents or nothing."

Corvus laughed, failing to remind them that teachers were worse, before growing a little more serious. "How do you know we'll all be in the same house?"

"'Course we will, Corvus!" Goyle replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We're all gonna be in Slytherin, see? We will!"

He said it with such certainty that Corvus laughed out loud, his trademark bark setting off a snort from Draco and a peal of giggles from Pansy. But although he laughed, Corvus couldn't stop a spark of uncertainty worm its way into his gut. Even if he was different, they could still be friends, right?

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It was around lunch time when the news came. Corvus had been expecting it and so didn't bother listening as he finished changing into his school robes. Draco was also unconcerned, and continued reading. Pansy nearly wet herself with excitement after she realised she no longer needed to cover her eyes (being the only girl in a compartment of boys). Crabbe shrugged and went back to his pumpkin pasty. Goyle copied Crabbe, but had a cauldron cake instead. Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini did not approve of any of these reactions to their spectacular news.

"Did you not hear me correctly?" Blaise snapped impatiently. His mother had always taught him to keep calm in situations like these, all of the children knew it, but he was fast losing patience. "Harry Potter is on the train!"

"The Boy Who Lived," added Daphne unnecessarily, bouncing on her heels. "The boy who defeated You-Know-Who! He's going to be in our year! I hope he's in Slytherin!"

"Nah, he'll be a Gryffindor," Draco said, turning a page in his book. Somehow he'd managed to perfect ignoring Pansy, reading, and coping with the loss of his left arm at the same time to an art.

"What makes you say that, Draco?"

"Intuition."

Corvus laughed. "_Women's_ intuition? Like your dad?"

He dodged the object that came flying towards his face by leaping between Daphne and Blaise, taking off up the corridor and scaring a group of third years Hufflepuffs with his psychotic laughter. Draco scowled, red-faced, and politely asked Daphne to pass him his shoe.

-------------------------------------------

As Corvus wandered aimlessly along the length of the train, he pondered exactly what he was looking for. Because he knew exactly what he was looking for, messy black hair and bright green eyes, he knew them from his childhood but didn't know how. Another mystery to add to the enigma that was his mind.

He finally found them in a compartment near the end of the train, surrounded by sweets, sporting a pair of broken glasses and sat opposite a red-haired boy who just had to be one of the Weasley multitude. He stopped in the compartment doorway. Of course! That's how he knew the Potter boy. It was Harry, from Madam Malkin's!

-------------------------------------------

Harry glanced up from his third chocolate frog as someone slid into the compartment. It was the dark-haired boy from the robe shop, the one with the barking laugh and sharp tongue. The boy grinned. "Hey, Harry. How was your summer?"

"Oh, Corvus!" Harry hurriedly cleared some chair space of wrappers and Corvus sat down without an invitation. The Boy-Who-Lived grinned at him, oblivious to the scowl now present on Ron's face. "It was alright. Where's your cousin?"

"Oh, trying to escape Pug-Face Parkinson, I guess," Corvus replied casually. He offered Ron his hand. "Corvus Black. Weasley, right? Which one are you?"

Ron nodded stiffly, but did not accept the proffered hand. "Ron. Ron Weasley."

Harry watched with astonishment as Corvus took Ron's hostility in stride, retracting his hand and folding his arms. He turned to Harry, who was yet more surprised at being addressed by someone who had just been shunned by his new friend. Did they know each other? Surely not. So what had Ron got against Corvus, anyhow?

"So, Harry, you never told us you're the Boy-Who-Lived. I didn't realise until Blaise told me."

"Who's Blaise?" Harry asked quietly, hoping he wasn't being too rude about not-so-subtly changing the subject.

Corvus didn't seem to mind, and merely grinned again. "Blaise Zabini, he's down in the compartment with Draco and the others. He's a bit snobby, but then, most of that lot are, me too, I guess. I can be a right spoilt brat sometimes. Grandmother's always telling me so."

The conversation continued like this for a while, with Corvus describing his associates- he was adamant that they were _not_ his friends, but Harry suspected otherwise- Harry listening avidly, and Ron sulking in a stony silence.

Eventually, as the sky began to darken, Corvus excused himself from the compartment, promising to meet up with them before the Sorting. The moment he was out of hearing range, Ron rounded on Harry.

"Do you have any idea who that was?" he hissed, face red. "His dad's a murderer! In Azkaban!"

"Azkaban's a prison, right?" Harry's observations were rewarded with a frantic nod. "They said something about that in Madam Malkin's, too. Corvus didn't seem all that bothered."

"'Cause he's just as evil as his dad, I'll bet! You should stay away from him!"

Harry shook his head. "No, he's nice. He said his dad was disowned and he was raised by his grandma, so I don't think that matters anyway."

Ron had no answer to this, and started changing into his robes silently. Harry did the same, but didn't fail to notice that while Corvus had had brand new robes made of expensive fabric, Ron had a set of worn out hand-me-downs just a little bit too big.

* * *

_...Yeah. Review, please? It makes me happy. And makes me want to update faster._


	6. Chapter Five: The Raven and The Hat

**A/N is at the end today. And mostly, I'm really sorry I made you guys wait so long... And if Polly is reading this, you are dead meat, my friend. On with the ridiculously bad chapter!**

* * *

"That bloke was huge…"

Harry laughed at Ron's awed yet fearful expression as they waited for the tall, strict head of Gryffindor to return and lead them into the Great Hall for Sorting. The redhead's reaction to meeting Hagrid had been priceless, and even more so once the other boy realised that Harry and Hagrid knew each other. Leaving Ron to his ranting, he glanced over at the tightly clustered group of eleven-year-olds he knew to be Corvus and Draco's friends. They were muttering quietly to one another.

Almost immediately after he glanced over at them, the group turned as one and stared at him. Harry fought back an involuntary shudder- that was just _too creepy_, like one of those horror movies that Dudley liked to watch. Harry observed as the group made their way over to him, Draco, Corvus and a haughty-looking black boy in the lead.

"Hello again, Harry," Draco greeted confidently, earning a glare from Ron. At a nudge in the ribs from his cousin's elbow, he shoved his hand in said Weasley's direction. "Draco Malfoy. You must be a Weasley. Which one are you, again?"

"Ron." Ron replied icily. Harry could tell that these two had a long way to go before they became friends. This would be his mission from today, he decided, to make all of his friends like each other.

But when Draco replied with a just-as-hostile _"of course…__**Ron**__"_, he knew it wasn't going to be easy.

Corvus chose this moment to intervene, if only to save his cousins limbs from the boy he knew would be stronger in a fistfight. "So, Harry, these guys really wanted to meet you."

He indicated a bookish-looking boy with thick-framed glasses first. "This is Theodore Nott, he likes books. This"- a blonde girl who was definitely going to be a stunner in a few years- "is Daphne Greengrass, she likes shoes."

Next was a pair of large boys Harry couldn't quite tell apart called Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, a large girl who seemed to be their female counterpart named Millicent Bulstrode, the haughty boy who turned out to be Blaise Zabini (and had an aversion to carrots), a mousy girl named Tracey Davis who was staring at Blaise in adoration and the girl who seemed to be completely oblivious to Corvus' dislike of her, Pansy Parkinson. She didn't seem half as bad as Corvus had made her out to be, but, Harry supposed, he'd only just met her. Maybe she really _was_ all that bad.

Ron was steadily growing redder as the conversation went on. The group were of the high class, high maintenance type that Harry was sure belonged in archaic societies, not the modern day, but judging from the look on Ron's face he didn't find it quite as amusing as Harry did.

* * *

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," Professor McGonagall announced to the anxious first years.

Corvus knew he should be paying attention, his grandmother was always telling him he had the attention span of a pixie, but half of the teacher's table was glaring at him. He should have been used to it by now. Unfortunately, the fact that it was now his turn to be sorted didn't help his predicament, and he felt holes being glared into his back as he stepped forward to a disdainful call of "Black, Corvus" while "Abbott, Hannah" skipped over to the Hufflepuff table.

Feeling the eyes of the entire hall on him, Corvus lowered the hat onto his head.

'_Well, hello, there. Haven't seen a Black for a long time. Good to know the family's still around. But where to put you…'_

Corvus held onto the stool with both hands. He hadn't been expecting a voice to suddenly start talking in his head, but his surprise was soon evaporated and its place stolen by nervousness.

'_Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to eat you.' _

'I know that!'

'_Well, I suppose you're not a Hufflepuff then.'_

'Damn, you're a sarcastic git.'

'_And _you_ are an incredibly rude eleven-year-old.'_

'Why thank you.'

'_But where to put you? Your mother was a Ravenclaw, shame what happened to her…'_

'Tell me about it.'

'_But your father was a Gryffindor. And the rest of your family, Slytherins… Let's see, I think I know what to do with you now. You belong in…'_

* * *

Harry took in the stony expressions decorating the faces of those sat at the teachers' table and the slight surprise the hat's announcement had elicited from them as it placed Corvus in Gryffindor. Then he turned slightly to observe the reaction of Corvus' adamantly Slytherin companions. Draco, Blaise, Theo and Daphne didn't look all that surprised, but the others appeared as though they'd just witnessed a betrayal of the highest kind. Corvus had sent them an apologetic look before he took his seat between Ron's twin brothers at the far table.

Minutes later, "Brown, Lavender" joined him, along with the bushy-haired girl from the train, Hermione, and "Finnegan, Seamus", a boy who was missing an eyebrow. Then Neville, the boy with the toad, and Parvati Patil, one of a set of identical twins, sat with them, and it was Harry's turn to don the hat and discover his Hogwarts family.

* * *

"How could he _do_ this to us?" Pansy whined. Draco contemplated shoving a bread roll in her mouth, but figured it wouldn't be worth the hassle if his parents and Great Aunt Walburga found out. He settled for ripping the roll into miniscule pieces instead, to distract himself from the fact he could hardly hear out of his left ear because of her.

"Pansy, you should have known he wasn't going to our house," Theo interrupted. "Personally, I thought he'd be a Ravenclaw, but still. He does like to make things explode just that little bit too much."

Daphne nodded in agreement. "And he's friends with Harry Potter, too. If that's not going to be useful in the long run, I don't know what is."

"Always with the practicalities," Blaise smirked. "I don't believe it matters. We've got seven years to become acquainted with the Boy-Who-Lived, anyway. As long as Corvus doesn't sever ties with us, it should be fine. It'll be good to have a different perspective if something happens around here."

Draco sighed. Surely these fools could see that Corvus was not the sort of person to let something so _unimportant_ as an _age-old house rivalry_ stop him from interfering with their lives? Honestly. At least Hogwarts was going to be interesting... as long as that Weasley boy wasn't too much trouble.

* * *

**So, yeah. Reviewers and plot declared Corvus must be in Gryffindor. I'm sorry this is so late, really, but writer's block happened and then the chapter was being annoying. I swear I rewrote this about twenty times. It originally started with them getting off the train, but that scene didn't cooperate so this is what you get. **

**I've got a vote for canon pairings but if anyone decides they want Corvus paired with an uncanonpaired character, feel free to yell it in my face. Through a review (hint, hint). At the moment it can only be fluff anyway. And should I stick to the Philosopher's Stone plot like glue, or should I mess with it?**

**Tell me what you think!**


	7. Chapter Six: Ew, Classes

Gawd, hideously late, I know, I'm sorry. This chapter took so long and I'm still not happy with it. It's just that I'm ahving difficulty with the first year- I have the whole plan for second year written up, and I have huge chunks written for third year, but Quirrell and that darn Philosopher's Stone are giing me trouble. Also, I happen to have lost my copy of the first book, so most of this stuff is relying heavily on the film. Any particular events you absolutely KNOW aren't in the film but want me to include, feel free to PM me. Please?

Anyway, please enjoy the chapter more than I did~

_EDIT: Found an error, corrected it... sorry about that. New chapter will be up in a couple of days if anyone cares._

* * *

_**September 2**__**nd**__**, 1971**_

_First day at Hogwarts. James seems really cool, I think I may have found a partner in crime. I think we'll be good friends. There's two other boys in our dorm, Remus who is very shy and quiet and Peter who is nervous all the time. He was the one who fell in the lake and the groundskeeper (did I mention that guy is HUGE?) had to pull him out of the water. James and I laughed so much we nearly cried. It's weird sharing a room with other people when I've had my own room for my whole life, but I'll get used to it eventually, so there's no problem._

_That Evans girl is in Gryffindor too. She seems like a bossy little brat, I hope she doesn't stick around the common room too much. And her friend in Slytherin was really annoying yesterday. I don't think I'm going to like him. I'm also awaiting my Howler from my parents- I think I ought to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. And Easter. And summer. And the rest of my life. Father is going to be _so_ mad I'm in Gryffindor, I just can't help but laugh. There's nothing else I can really do about it anyway. Reggie might be sad though._

**September 2****nd****, 1991**

"Hey, Corvus, what are you reading?"

Corvus closed the old journal and placed it reverently under his pillow. He looked up at Harry and Ron, who seemed to be still mostly asleep. "Old diary of my dad's from his first year, before he was, y'know, evil. But, you can't tell anyone. If my grandmother found out what it really is, she'd burn it."

"Why, what does she think it is?"

"One of my uncle Regulus'."

"I don't get it. What's the difference?"

"As far as my grandmother is concerned, Regulus was lovely and Dad was trouble."

"Oh. Right. Well, hurry up and get dressed. We've got to find the Great Hall for breakfast."

Corvus allowed his friends to move away before he rolled out of bed and quickly donned his robes, dumping his pyjamas unceremoniously on the floor by his bedside table. Shoving on the pair of black boots that he'd been wearing yesterday, he quickly followed Harry down to the common room to wait for Ron. After all, there was no point hanging around in the dormitory while the person you were waiting for was trying to put on his uniform over his nightwear.

- - - - - -

The Great Hall was packed by the time they arrived. Harry glanced up at the teachers' table- that oily professor was still glaring at him, but with much greater force than before. He wondered what _that_ was all about. He must have voiced this thought aloud without realising it, because the next thing he knew, his question was being answered.

"Oh, that's Professor Snape," a tall, pompous redhead Ron had introduced as his brother Percy spoke up. "He teaches Potions."

"He really hates Gryffindors," Fred continued, or was it George? Whoever it was, the other twin was the one who finished the sentence. "So he'll take points from you in class for no reason."

Corvus laughed airily, drawing the attention of his friends away from glaring at Snape. "He just hates people, full stop." He shrugged. "He's hated me ever since I've known him. He's Draco's godfather, so I see him around a lot. I think he was my uncle's friend or something, too. My grandmother really likes him."

To say the assembled were shocked would be an understatement. Fred and George let out a chorus of _"EEHHHH?"_, their friend Lee Jordan choked in his pumpkin juice, Percy dropped his toast in his lap and Ron fell off the bench. Twice. Only Harry seemed to be unaffected.

"Someone actually _likes_ Snape?" the twins exclaimed in unison, deliberately tossing their own thickly buttered toast into Percy's lap.

"Yeah, don't really see it myself," agreed Corvus. He waved jovially at said professor, who glowered momentarily before looking away. "When do we get our timetables? I think I'll want a fair warning for when I need to run to the hills to avoid the wrath of Professor Grumpy over there."

- - - - - -

Draco sniggered behind his hand as that McGonagall woman cleared her throat behind Corvus, startling him. It was very difficult to surprise Corvus, actually, considering it was usually the Black boy who was doing the startling. Blaise glanced up at him, followed his gaze, spotted Corvus' expression and joined in the sniggering.

It seemed the small group were having a rather uneventful morning. Pansy was still sulking, sending the first year Gryffindors ridiculous frowns across the hall, meant to convey the _utter betrayal_ she felt at Corvus having a _different personality_ to the one she _demanded_ he have. Crabbe and Goyle had found that no matter how many times they cleared the plates in front of them, the plates refilled, and so were having a contest to see who could eat the most. Daphne was commentating.

"Settling in?"

Draco looked up at his new head of house. "Yes, Severus- I mean, Professor Snape. Do you know which classes we have with Gryffindor?"

"See for yourself," replied his godfather, handing him a small stack of timetables to distribute among the other first years. He then headed over to the next cluster, this time of fifth years, as Draco handed out the timetables.

"Oh, we're with Corvus for Potions," Daphne pointed out, skimming the parchment sheet. "I hear that History of Magic is a complete bore, though."

"Teacher's a ghost," agreed Millicent. "My sister says it's the most boring class ever."

Blaise summed up the rest of their schedule, "Herbology with the Ravenclaws, Charms with Hufflepuff, Astronomy at midnight on Tuesdays…"

"I know that I shall be exhausted on Wednesday mornings," Pansy interrupted, deciding that, since Corvus was glaring at the Gryffindor tabletop as though it had done him a great wrong, she should start paying attention to those around her. "I'm so glad we have Potions then. I can sit between Draco and Corvus."

"Of course, it doesn't matter who they want to sit with…" muttered Theo lazily, raising his head from the table where he had been dozing. Pansy ignored him.

- - - - - -

"What was that all about?"

Corvus feigned ignorance, still glaring holes in the tabletop. "I don't have a clue what you mean, Harry."

Harry watched his friend for a few seconds. It was the same as with Hagrid. Professor McGonagall had acted as though Corvus was the devil's own spawn. Realising that Harry was not going to drop this, Corvus sighed. "I'll tell you in a minute."

Had Harry known Corvus' definition of 'a minute', he might have reconsidered pestering him at breakfast. In fact, it wasn't until after Transfiguration, double Herbology and a hurried lunch that Harry even got a chance to ask again. They were sitting through the most boring lecture Harry had ever been in (and that was really saying something, with the way Uncle Vernon could rant). Most people weren't paying attention, and Ron had even fallen asleep.

Tearing off a hand-sized piece of parchment, he scribbled- in terrible calligraphy, as he wasn't used to using a quill- a small note to Corvus.

_So what was that with McGonagall?_

Corvus read the note over a few times before writing a reply, which Harry received happily. He'd never passed notes before, after all, and Corvus had such nice handwriting, it almost looked as if it had been typed.

_At breakfast or in class?_

_Breakfast AND class_, Harry wrote back. _She was acting like you were evil._

Corvus frowned at the note for several moments, then glanced at Harry, but eventually did write a reply. _She taught my parents._

Harry was about to write back when he noticed that Corvus had deliberately laid his head on his arms as though to go to sleep, signifying that the conversation was over. He'd just have to be satisfied with this, then- for now.

* * *

Sorry, not much Ron, but at least you know what's in those books, now, right? Yeah, I know, whatta cop-out. I'm sorry. Next time: first Potions lesson and a confrontation with an angry Pansy, as well as a stern letter.


	8. Chapter Seven: Potions and Pansy

_Hey there. Astro, buddy, I'm well aware that you're sat next to me right now, but, well, this one's for you. 'Course, you won't be sat next to me when you read this..._

_I apologise in advance for any disappointment this chapter may cause._

_Disclaimer: Do I own Harry Potter? No. Do I own Corvus? Yes, yes I do._

* * *

The first years' first Potions lesson went off with a bang, literally. As the Gryffindors walked into the dungeon, Blaise Zabini slyly shifted his foot into the path of one Neville Longbottom, who tripped and crashed headfirst into a shelf. Fortunately, only one jar toppled off the shelf. Unfortunately, it shattered near a spillage from the previous class- an odd purple slime that had resisted all attempts to remove it. The two substances mixed and reacted, causing a small explosion that robbed Seamus Finnegan of his other eyebrow.

The Slytherins erupted into fits of laughter. Dean Thomas had to physically restrain Seamus from punching Blaise and, as Harry observed, was only managing to do so with a great deal of difficulty. Corvus merely raised an eyebrow and sat down in the seat directly behind Draco. Harry tentatively took the empty seat to his left.

Ron dropped gracelessly into the seat on Harry's other side as the dungeon door was violently thrown open by the dour Potions professor. Amid the dim lighting and shelves full of preserved things Harry didn't really want to know about, Professor Snape looked… 'at home'. He certainly fit in with the décor, Harry found himself thinking, as the man began to speak.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word– at least, most of the class did, because Corvus was covering his mouth with his hand to hide his laughter, and the girl from the train- Hermione Granger- kept shooting him dark looks. It seemed that the seat next to Corvus had been the only one left in the class by the time she had finished helping Neville collect up his books.

Eventually, Snape finished terrifying the majority of the first years, and the class register was read out in a snide tone. Harry elbowed Corvus. "What's so funny?"

"It's the exact same speech- _present, sir_- he makes to every first year class, I'll bet," Corvus whispered back.

"How d'you figure that?"

"Because he said it to the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuffs just yesterday. Su Li from Ravenclaw told Theo who told Daphne who told Tracey who told Blaise who told Draco who told me."

"What?" Harry blinked. None of that made any sense. And besides, Corvus had been with Harry and Ron since yesterday, so- "When did you talk to Draco?"

"While you and Ron were talking about post owls this morning, Draco passed a note to Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw who passed it on to Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff. He gave it to Susan Bones and she gave it to Neville who gave it to me. That redhead girl who was talking to him at breakfast, remember?"

"…Oh." Harry decided that, in this respect, it was probably better that he had been raised by muggles- the pureblood information network in first year alone was too much for him to handle. Ron had tried to explain it to him last night after Corvus went to sleep, but had only made Harry even more confused. As far as Ron was concerned, Corvus and Draco were plotting world domination and the rest of them were the cousins' flunkies.

A sudden moment of silence caused Harry to look up and forget his woes regarding the Hogwarts chain of command. A glance at the professor told him all he needed to know; the glaring at mealtimes was definitely directed at him. Why, he had no idea.

"Ah, yes," Snape was talking softly now. Harry automatically interpreted this as a sign of danger and shrank back in his chair.

"Harry Potter. Our new… _celebrity_."

And Harry realised that this man would definitely not be aiming to make his life any better than a living hell for the rest of his time at Hogwarts.

* * *

The three boys managed to escape the classroom with only eighteen points lost from Gryffindor house. Ten of those had been lost by Corvus halfway through the lesson, as he had emptied a jar of something with a terrible odour onto Snape's desk in revenge for the five points that had just been taken unjustly from Harry. The Slytherins had been in hysterics by the end of class.

Hermione brushed past Ron, giving the three an icy glare, and swept off down the hall. Ron made a face at her back. "Honestly, that girl must have been a nightmare to work with. Better you than me."

Corvus laughed. "She wasn't that bad. When I told her my tutor had already taught me this one, she mostly shut up. Everything by the book, that girl."

"I hope Neville and Seamus are alright."

"They'll be fine," Ron dismissed Harry's worry with a wave of his hand as they wandered into lunch. "Fred and George said that Madame Pomfrey can fix anything."

Harry was not convinced- though, as I'm sure you have surmised, he would be converted to the ways of the hospital wing very quickly.

* * *

Lunch was a very subdued affair for the first year Slytherins. Daphne was still prone to giggles every time Potions was mentioned (Millicent had been forced to physically restrain her from giving Potter a standing ovation for telling Professor Snape to "ask Hermione, she knows the answer") and so the rest were being uncharacteristically silent in an effort to calm her down. Draco's mind was on something else entirely, however- for example, how the Gryffindors had already practically adopted _his_ cousin.

He was beginning to feel irritated. _Not jealous_, he insisted in his mind as he watched Corvus joke with the Weasley twins, _definitely not jealous_. Malfoys just didn't get jealous. It was the same sort of insistence that Corvus had that '_Blacks just _don't_ cry, Draco, no matter what'_. Draco, being of the Black blood but Malfoy name, was apparently the exception to this rule, as far as Corvus was concerned.

Apparently, however, he wasn't the only one feeling _not jealous_. Pansy Parkinson had decided to take matters into her own entirely incapable hands and was halfway to the Gryffindor table before her housemates noticed. Tracey hurried after her, followed reluctantly by Millicent, Blaise, Theo and a still hysterical Daphne; at a nod from Draco, Crabbe and Goyle joined them.

Draco himself stopped at the Ravenclaw table- just far enough away to avoid the inevitable fall-out, but close enough to enjoy the show.

* * *

"Corvus!"

The named looked up from his bread roll. He'd always had a fondness for bread rolls. Given access to the most expensive and exquisite cuisine in the wizarding world and, yes, he developed a love for one of the most plain, common foods around. He noticed Pansy attempting to look intimidating and went back to his favourite food.

"Pansy, if you plan on berating me for some sin I probably have no recollection of committing, I don't suppose it could wait until after lunch?"

"No!" Pansy stamped her foot angrily. "This just isn't fair! You're supposed to be _our_ friend!"

Corvus nodded slowly, eyes wide. "Of course, Mistress Parkinson, I will obey… not," he snapped as he returned to his precious bread. "Honestly, Pansy, it's not like I can't be friends with you _and_ these guys."

"Actually," began the Weasley twins, but Harry cut them off.

"Why not? It's not like it's illegal, right?"

Pansy was turning pink with rage when she was interrupted by a gasp of horror.

* * *

Draco was the first to notice the owl swoop into the great hall. Perhaps he had been looking for it. Perhaps he was just perceptive. Perhaps he was just lucky.

But in the end, he was the only person to escape the room before Great Aunt Walburga's jet black eagle owl interrupted the bickering over at the Gryffindor table by dropping a Howler onto Corvus' lunch plate.

* * *

_And that is that. Review please?_


	9. Chapter Eight: Sherbet Lemon Thieves

**I'm ba~ack! So quickly, too~ Be happy, be happy, and thank Astronomixicalixa (or Astro for short) for attacking me into writing this fast~ Not my favourite chapter, but, as far as plots go, pretty important... I guess. Enjoy! I know I didn't! (Bet you can't guess how hyper _I _am...)**

**Disclaimer- see a previous chapter. There's one in there somewhere.**

_

* * *

_

_Last Time:_

_Draco was the first to notice the owl swoop into the great hall. Perhaps he had been looking for it. Perhaps he was just perceptive. Perhaps he was just lucky._

_But in the end, he was the only person to escape the room before Great Aunt Walburga's jet black eagle owl interrupted the bickering over at the Gryffindor table by dropping a Howler onto Corvus' lunch plate._

* * *

The Gryffindors stared at the letter for what felt like hours but was definitely only seconds. Corvus' face had gone paper white and, Harry noticed, Draco had bolted the moment he saw it. There must be something important about the letter that was now… smoking? He opened his mouth to ask but Corvus was already gone, red envelope scrunched tightly in his fist. Harry blinked a few times. Corvus was _fast_.

Harry stood up to follow him but Neville, just returned from the hospital wing, grabbed his arm. "Don't. That's a Howler, Harry."

"What's a Howler?"

"It's a letter," Neville replied quietly, "That yells. And I'm sure that was his grandmother's owl- she and my grandmother exchange Howlers quite often, they really hate each other."

Harry shook his head. This was confusing. No one voiced the unspoken question as muffled shrieking filtered through the hall, loud enough to hear but stifled enough that the words could not be distinguished. The unspoken query of why exactly Corvus' grandmother was sending him a Howler in the middle of the day.

* * *

Corvus wasn't in the common room, nor was he in the library, or the owlery; Harry had dragged a reluctant Ron with him to search the castle for their wayward friend. They had seen Draco, who was paler than usual and looked thoroughly terrified, but he merely shook his head and wandered off in a daze. Rumours were now flying around the school about the Howler and Pansy Parkinson was crying in the girls' toilets. Why, Harry had no idea, and he didn't particularly care.

It was halfway through their free afternoon, twenty minutes before they had arranged to be at Hagrid's, when they found Corvus. He was sat by the lake with his knees hugged to his chest, looking like someone had just died. His eyes were focused on a point in the distance, past where the giant squid was lazily waving tendrils in the air. Harry and Ron dropped down on either side of him (Ron had at first looked as though he was going to object, but wisely held his tongue). Harry gently pried the burnt remains of the letter from Corvus' closed fist.

He could only make out a few words, but none of them made for a pleasant image of Corvus' grandmother.

As though sensing Harry's deduction, Corvus muttered, "She not that bad, really, she's usually nicer… She never gets mad at me, never. This is the first time."

"What was it about?"

"Just, stuff," Corvus replied quietly. "Professor Snape sent her a letter at lunch. Apparently he's not very happy with me. And Draco's been writing to Cissy about it ever since the Sorting. And Pansy complains to her parents all the time, and they complain to Grandmother…"

"That's not fair."

"Yeah, well…"

There was a moment of silence. Ron coughed.

"Well," Corvus jumped up and stretched, suddenly bouncing back out of his dejection. Harry wasn't entirely fooled. "We're supposed to be at Hagrid's… um…"-he checked his watch-"ten minutes ago. Race you there!"

* * *

In the end, Ron won the race, and the three boys arrived at Hagrid's hut breathless and laughing. During the course of the run from the lake, Harry had crashed into a tree, Ron had tried to trip Corvus who had retaliated by stealing Scabbers from his pocket and running in the complete wrong direction, and all three boys had declared war on thistles and Hogwarts uniforms. Ron had even momentarily forgotten his dislike of spoilt rich kids.

They arrived at Hagrid's hut seventeen minutes late, according to Corvus' watch, to find Hagrid waiting for them outside. He wasn't the first to greet them, however; Corvus found himself pounced up by a huge black boarhound, which proceeded to lick his face three times before pouncing on Ron, who, apparently, was next in line.

Hagrid let loose a great, booming laugh, and held the door open for the three boys to go inside.

* * *

"…and that's what happened."

Hagrid scratched his great bushy beard in thought. Harry had just finished telling him about their disastrous first Potions lesson. Corvus took this chance to slip the rock cake he'd been given into his pocket. He was sure he'd heard Ron's tooth crack when the redhead had taken a bite, and didn't want to take any chances. Harry wasn't so quick, and had to wait for another moment to dispose of the mildly cake-like rock, because Hagrid was looking at him now.

"Well, I remember 'em at school, Professor Snape an' yer dad, Harry," Hagrid seemed to be choosing his words carefully, and Corvus shuffled in his seat. People always seemed to dance about the subject when he was around, and he had no idea why. Well, maybe he did… James Potter was best friends with Sirius Black… or so the journals said. It wasn't like he'd actually read any further than _'October 12__th__ – James worked out colour-changing charms. Charmed Snape pink'_, after all. But maybe Hagrid was dancing around the subject because of Harry.

It had to be because of Harry.

"They… didn' like each other much, see…"

"Hey, Hagrid, what's this?"

Corvus could almost see the _Thank Merlin for Ronald Bilius Weasley's extremely short attention span_ on Hagrid's face. Harry leaned over Ron's shoulder to get a better look at the newspaper cutting that Ron had apparently found under the teapot, if the stain on the top right corner was anything to go by. "'_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST. Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown_.'"

Corvus continued reading aloud where Harry stopped, taking this chance to return his hostage, Scabbers, to its owner's hands. "'_Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day_.'Wow. They broke into Gringotts and got away? Unbelievable. Next they'll be saying people can break out of Azkaban!"

"Hagrid, that was my birthday!" exclaimed Harry suddenly. Corvus could almost see the proverbial light bulb flicker into life above Harry's head. Or maybe that was just- yes, it was just Fang, drooling on the top of Harry's head from his perch on an increasingly uncomfortable-looking Ron's lap. Harry ignored the laugh Corvus muffled behind his hand. "What if it happened while we were there? The thieves might have been right near us!"

Hagrid didn't meet Harry's eyes, much like when he was talking about James Potter. Harry frowned, but Corvus' interest was officially peaked.

And, as Draco would have been glad to inform anyone who asked or, in fact, anyone who didn't ask, when Corvus' interest was peaked, that typically meant chaos was on its way.

* * *

The three boys left Hagrid's with pockets full of rock cakes they had been too polite to refuse. At least, Harry knew that he and Ron were too polite to refuse them; he suspected Corvus was planning on using them for some dastardly scheme, like booby-trapping their dormitory room against intruders. He'd been trying to convince them to fortify the room since the first night, and seemed to think that this was normal practice for students at Hogwarts. The others disagreed, though Harry could see that Dean and Seamus probably thought it would be a great laugh, especially if the teachers came to check on them after hours.

Harry couldn't see how turning their Head of House yellow with fluorescent green stripes and cyan polka-dots would help them at all.

Harry shook his head, ridding himself of these ridiculous thoughts just in time to pull his two friends into an alcove just inside the entrance hall. Ron's stomach complained loudly.

Harry ignored it. "I have something to tell you."

He proceeded to tell them of his suspicions- that the vault that had been robbed was none other than Vault 713, the vault Hagrid had emptied on Dumbledore's orders, and he described the small, brown package that the groundskeeper had retrieved. A serious discussion followed as they speculated what could be in the package- until Ron suggested that it was Dumbledore's supply of sherbet lemons, and someone was trying to sabotage the headmaster by stealing his next sugar hit.

The serious discussion dissolved into a tennis match of words between Ron and Corvus, who spent the rest of the evening trying to beat each other to the stupidest, weirdest, most ridiculous suggestions.

The situational severity that Harry had felt at Hagrid's seemed like it was a million miles away as Harry curled up in bed that night, and he dreamt of man-eating pumpkin pasties (Ron's theory) and evil rats plotting world domination (Corvus') until morning.

* * *

**Thank you for reading and please review! Or I will take much longer to update... *bad almost-hollow threat***


	10. Chapter Nine: Learn To Fly Or Not

**We~ell. Next chapter. Yeah. It was originally going to be longer, but then I cut it in two, because I found a place I really wanted to stop at. The next chapter will be, at most, a few days, because it's mostly written. And I'm pretty sure I declared Mrs Norris to be in this chapter... but she's in the second half. Yes. It was, technically, a lie. I'm very sorry.  
**

**Enjoy, please, it was a pain in the butt to write.**

**Oh, and this chapter is deicated to GatsbyRose, who left me a huge long review that made me really happy~  
**

* * *

Three days had now passed since the Howler. Three days. Three whole days. Seventy-two hours. Four thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes. Two hundred and fifty-nine thousand, two hundred seconds- all of which Draco had been terrified.

That single Howler was the first time he'd ever heard his Great Aunt Walburga shout, and he never wanted to hear it again.

How Corvus was still in one piece Draco didn't know. If _Draco_ had received that Howler, he would have- but no, he reminded himself, he would never have done anything to deserve it in the first place. It was all because Corvus had been being stupid. Though he wasn't sure if his cousin had deserved for the entire school to know about it, Corvus had been lucky that only Draco had been close enough to hear what it was shouting.

Stabbing his potatoes moodily, Draco was so lost in thought that he almost didn't notice their approach until too late. Luckily for him, Daphne glanced behind him and immediately dissolved into fits of laughter, such was her now relatively common reaction to their childhood companion. Draco himself hadn't seen nor spoken to Corvus for the entire weekend, though he knew that Blaise had spent a few minutes with him down at the lake on Saturday evening skimming stones and Daphne had been thrown out of the library for laughing too loudly as she, Theo, Corvus and Harry Potter did their homework together Sunday afternoon. The Weasley boy had been Merlin knows where, and Draco didn't really care, to be honest.

"Afternoon, Cousin," Corvus chirped, leaning over Draco's shoulder and stealing half a potato from his plate. "I was looking for you at breakfast, but there were too many people. How goes life?"

After a few moments of stony silence from Draco, Theo sighed and took up the torch. "Very dull indeed. We have flying lessons together on Thursday, don't we?"

"Why, yes, yes we do," agreed Corvus, setting off another peal of giggles from Daphne. He shot her an odd look before continuing. "Harry here has never ridden a broom, but we have been regaled with tales of Seamus Finnegan's encounters with large flocks of birds and Ron's harrowing experience concerning his brother's broom and a muggle hang glider. Have you any tales to tell? Apart from the woeful yarn that is Theodore's balance?"

Draco's head snapped up at exactly the same time as Theo coloured and ducked his head. "A hang glider! I've seen better than that, Harry- I was almost knocked out of the air by a huge muggle metal thing- one of those alley-foppers!"

Harry blinked. "Come again?"

"Draco, I told you it's called a _helicopter_," Theo admonished, forgetting his embarrassment in favour of correcting Draco's dire inaccuracy. There was a moment of shocked silence. "What? I was there! I saw it! I looked it up! I'm not like you lot, I don't wish to remain completely ignorant for my entire life…"

He trailed off, flushed, and went back to his salad. Another few minutes of casual banter passed, punctuated by Corvus' light teasing, Harry's confusion, Theo's indignation and Daphne's uncontrollable mirth, until one of the other Weasleys- Merlin's beard, there were just so many of them Draco could not keep track- dragged both Corvus and Harry back to their own table. And just in time, too, because Severus- no, Professor Snape- was walking past. Draco knew that, after that conversation, he felt undeniably better about the Howler situation.

If any of the first year Slytherins noticed the glare Draco's godfather levelled at the younger Potter-Black duo's backs, they didn't mention it.

* * *

"Put your hand over your broom and say UP!"

Harry's ancient school broom shot up into his hand the first time he tried. And, really, it was _ancient_. He could even see on the handle where someone had, not very recently, carved a love heart with 'JPLE 4EVA' inside it. He hoped that, wherever they were, 'JP' and 'LE' were not regretting their decision to vandalise school property. He glanced to the left just in time to see Ron's broom smack him in the face, and Corvus dissolve into laughter, almost dropping the broom that had leapt at the second try. Harry laughed a little as well, but stopped when Ron looked like he was about to throttle someone.

"It's not funny!"

"Sorry, sorry," Harry tried to stop himself smiling. He really did. He shouldn't mock his friend's misfortune, but, really, there was a big red splotch on Ron's forehead where the broom had hit, and it really _was _funny. Corvus managed to mutter as much through his laughter, and Ron's ears went red.

Luckily, Madam Hooch, the windswept flying instructor, called for silence at this point. The three Gryffindor boys immediately desisted from what had promised to be a rather lengthy argument. After she had shown them how to mount their brooms, Harry distinctly heard her tell Draco that he'd been doing it wrong for years while she corrected his grip. He imagined that Draco was probably doing the Malfoy equivalent to Ron's ear-reddening right about now, and Ron snickered.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," Madam Hooch announced, returning to the front of the class. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three -- two --"

* * *

Daphne Greengrass was a very observant witch. Despite being a relatively spoilt child, adored by all, she was well aware that her parents had wished for a male heir, and that when she married it would probably be for status not love, if her parents got their say. She could easily tell that her sister, whose engagement to Draco Malfoy would soon be finalised, was going to be an incredibly talented witch, eternal naivety notwithstanding. The reason for her current never-ending amusement was that, out of everyone in the Potions classroom at the time of the incident, she was the only one who realised that the substance that Corvus had poured on Professor Snape's desk was highly flammable, and she fully intended to inform him of this at the end of the flying lesson.

But even with her great powers of observation, she had to admit that anyone who didn't see this coming was a complete idiot.

Longbottom kicked off from the ground too hard, too fast, too soon. His broom was an old one, an ancient one, in fact, she'd bet her entire fortune that it was as old as Dumbledore, who had to be about two hundred by now, or something. The older Hogwarts brooms did seem to develop minds of their own, as her father had told her one evening when she asked whether she would be allowed to skip flying lesson. She supposed he'd meant to reassure her, but, then, Daddy was never very good at that.

Anyway. Longbottom shot up into the air, zipped around a bit, and fell off the broom. She'd suspected as much. Madam Hooch quietly told the class that if they didn't want to be expelled, they would stay on the ground while she took Longbottom to the Hospital Wing.

Nobody moved until she was well out of sight and earshot.

The first thing that happened was Draco picking something up from the ground. A Remembrall. Harry stepped forward, hand held out, and Draco reluctantly gave it to him. Good. Anything that kept the two groups on good terms was fine with her.

Being, possibly, the most observant witch of her year group, Daphne could tell that this fragile peace would not last long. Sooner or later, there would be an incident. An incident that would drive the Gryffindors and the Slytherins apart, quite possibly engineered by older students. After a period of hostility, she predicted, the younger students would realise what was going on. Chaos would ensue.

And when the shit did hit the fan, Daphne wanted to be there, because it would probably be the funniest thing she'd ever seen in her life.

* * *

"So, that was a pointless waste of my time," Draco complained loudly. Madam Hooch had returned from the Hospital Wing, given Crabbe and Goyle detention for fist-fighting (which they'd only been doing because they were bored) and then sent the students off to dinner. All-in-all, the first flying lesson had given Neville a broken wrist, and nothing else.

Not that anybody really wanted a broken wrist, but still.

Corvus sent his cousin a glare. "It was a pointless waste of_ everyone's _time, Draco, not just yours."

Harry walked with Ron a few steps behind, silently bemoaning his loss- or, rather, bemoaning the fact that he _still _hadn't flown, while all his friends _had_. Suddenly, Draco stopped, face lit up as though he'd just had a brilliant idea.

"You know what we should do," he whispered conspiratorially, beckoning his walking companions closer. Corvus rolled his eyes at what promised to be another of Draco's daft schemes, but stepped up anyway, followed by Harry, Daphne, Blaise, Pansy, Tracey Davis and, as reluctantly as usual, the odd one out, Ron. "We should go flying by ourselves. Tonight. We can pick the lock on the broom shed down by the Pitch."

"Oh, we should, should we?" Pansy frowned, clearly opposed to the idea, but Corvus was nodding slowly, thoughtfully.

"We'll meet on the Quidditch Pitch?"

"At midnight," Draco confirmed, nodding back.

For once, Draco's stupid scheme had been relatively worthwhile, Corvus thought later as he, Harry and Ron crept out of the dormitory and into the common room. Harry had said at dinner that he couldn't wait to fly by himself. Even Ron was excited.

That is, until they saw that the common room wasn't as empty as they thought; Hermione Granger, still in her school uniform, was sat in the chair closest to the portrait hole, glaring at them.

* * *

**Next time: Neville, Midnight Quidditch, Mrs Norris, and Fluffy. Oh dear.  
**

**Review please? It makes me happy and less likely to do horrible things to the characters... except Lockhart. There will never be a time when I am nice to Lockhart. Thanks to Astro and Twonk, actually. Hobos.  
**


	11. Chapter Ten: Let The Games Begin

**Here's your chapter! Please leave my chest alone, GatsbyRose! *hides in corner***

**Chapter dedicated to Alan Rickman, because he is excessively attractive for an older man. Also because there's no Snape in this one T^T**

* * *

"I almost told your brother," the bushy-haired girl told Ron conversationally, folding her arms. "He's a prefect, he would have stopped you. I can't believe anyone would be so selfish, think of all the points you'll lose, even all those points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells, just for some stupid game-"

"Go away," Ron snapped, holding open the portrait for Harry to jump through. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."

The nerve of that girl! Interfering with something that wasn't her business. Ron couldn't believe that she would consider going to his brother, he would have been in so much trouble. She was such a know-it-all goody-goody. He really couldn't stand her. He could still hear her lecturing as the portrait swung closed behind Corvus- who he also couldn't stand, stupid spoilt rich _brat_, but sometimes he wasn't so bad- she must have followed them out.

"Look," he turned to her and glared as forcefully as he could, "If you have a problem with it then fine. Do whatever. We don't care, we're going to be late."

And there was no way he was going to be late to a meeting with Slytherins. Not a chance. He wouldn't show them any sort of weakness.

Hermione glared right back. "Fine, I'm going back to bed- but don't think I'm not going to tell Professor-"

She stopped abruptly. Ron glanced behind him and saw that the Fat Lady had waltzed off somewhere to do who-cares-what in someone else's portrait. The common room was completely impenetrable from the outside.

"Now what am I going to do?" Hermione said in a small voice.

Surprisingly, Harry was the one who replied. "You might as well come with us."

"What? What if you get caught?"

"Doesn't matter," Ron interrupted. "We're going to be late. We're leaving now. Do what you want."

* * *

"Do you think they're coming?"

"Of course they will. Harry wants to fly, remember?"

Theo watched the others in silent resentment. He hadn't even _been_ there when they made their stupid plans. He'd been in dinner already, having ditched the flying lesson halfway through, when Madam Hooch had left. It was bad enough that they'd made fun of him for wanting to keep his feet firmly on the ground. Honestly, if wizards were meant to fly, they would have been given wings, thank-you-very-much.

Eleven o'clock at night, and Draco and Blaise had dragged him out of bed, not even bothering to kidnap Gregory or Vincent, and hauled him out to the Quidditch Pitch in his pyjamas. Daphne was trying not to laugh at his dilemma, and he considered walking back up to school, but that would seem like he was running away; it wouldn't at all be considered that he had spotted the ominous thunderclouds approaching from the north.

Footsteps in the darkness heralded the arrival of the three Gryffindors. Theo blinked, took off his glasses, cleaned them, put them back on, then blinked again.

No, they definitely _had_ multiplied.

"Why are Longbottom and Granger here?"

Corvus shrugged. "Granger is stalking us and Neville got lost. Why are you in your pyjamas?"

"I was abducted and brought here against my will."

Theo's sulking was interrupted by a screech of frustration from the two girls over by the broom shed. Tracey was practically stabbing the lock with her wand, shouting nonsense words, while Pansy stamped her foot angrily. Daphne, standing a short way away, raised an eyebrow. "You've forgotten the incantation again, haven't you?"

"Oh, move over!" the Granger girl commanded impatiently. She swished her wand. "_Alohomora_!"

Nothing happened. Pansy giggled spitefully. "Oh, the Mudblood was expecting to be better-"

The door creaked open gently. Pansy, wisely, shut up, ignoring the victory smirk on Granger's face. Broomsticks were passed around. Within a few minutes, everyone had one, even Theo, who couldn't fly to save his life, Granger, who looked as though she was about to scream, and Longbottom, who was green at the prospect. Blaise and Daphne were already off the ground, chasing each other and laughing.

Theo threw his broom to the side and sat down on the cold, slightly damp ground. The Elves would clean his pyjamas later, so it didn't matter if he got muddy. He found himself joined by the Mudblood and Longbottom seconds later, while Corvus and Weasley showed Harry how to kick off and joined the others in the air.

"I can't believe I'm here," Granger whispered, almost inaudibly. "I'm going to get in so much trouble…"

"Not if you don't tell anyone."

Theo watched her reaction to his words carefully. She tensed at the notion of keeping quiet. Clearly this girl was used to trusting blindly in authority. He sighed. "Look, you are, as much as it pains me to say it, one of us now, an accomplice, because you were the one who opened the broom shed. Let's just hope no one gets hurt… _then_ we'll be in trouble."

Granger fell silent. Longbottom fell back onto the grass and groaned.

* * *

Weasley turned out to be a pretty good flyer, actually. Draco did not find this amusing. He didn't like the redhead, he didn't want him here and he had particularly wanted to drive him away from Corvus and Harry, who he rather liked. Unfortunately, Weasley wasn't that bad. Draco decided that something had to be done about him.

In the meantime, Harry was a natural; a loop-the-loop barrel-roll fast-as-the-broom-will-go first-time-flight natural. Currently, he was flying circles around everyone else in delight. Draco wished _he_ was that good.

Shaking himself out of his alternating awe and irritation, he directed the rickety school broom downwards. Scaring Theo would be more fun than this.

He had almost reached the ground when Theo leapt up, yelling and gesturing towards the sky with a panic-stricken look. He urgently flew over to the other boy as the group began to land. "What's the matter? Did you see a teacher? Have we been caught?"

"No!" Theo shouted, "But the clouds-"

And the heavens opened.

* * *

The five Gryffindors stumbled up the stairs towards the entrance hall, dripping wet and covered in mud. The exhilaration Harry had felt whilst flying had all but faded by this point, and it didn't help that the Slytherins had fled at the first sign of rain, taking a side door into the castle that led almost straight to their common room, or so they had said. At Hermione's insistence, the Gryffindors had remained to put the brooms back and relock the broom shed. Interestingly, it was Neville who knew the locking charm.

"My grandmother always uses it," he had explained hurriedly, "I must have seen her do it a million times- it's probably the only charm I know."

Ron knew a good cleaning charm of his mother's that got rid of most of the mud, but they were still soaked to the skin and terrified that they were going to be caught. As luck would have it, as the group trooped up the main staircase towards Gryffindor Tower, Harry froze. Years of waiting for his uncle's snores to fill the house so he could sneak into the kitchen for a sandwich had honed his sense of hearing- and right now, he heard laughter. "I think… I think Peeves is coming!"

Sure enough, there was Peeves. Corvus sighed. "Can this night get any worse?"

"Sure it can, ickle Blackie firstie," Peeves cackled. A sinking feeling announced itself in the pit of Harry's stomach, and for good reason.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED ON THE MAIN STAIRCASE!"

As of right now, Harry really hated Peeves.

* * *

"Oh no! What do we do?"

"Run, Granger," Corvus advised. "We just run."

The sound of Peeves' shouting was soon left behind as the first years tore up the staircases, scared out of their wits. Filch was going to catch them. Filch was going to catch them and they would be expelled, they would be sent home, and Corvus would never get to see Harry again because Grandmother didn't like halfbloods. This realisation was what prompted Corvus to drag Harry and Neville into a side corridor and straight to the very end. He barely noticed Ron and Granger following them; he just assumed they would.

Filch was _not_ going to catch them.

"Where did they go, Peeves?"

Or maybe he was.

Ron rattled the door handle in frustration. "It's locked! We're going to get caught!"

"Oh, move over!" snapped Hermione, uttering the same spell she had used to open the broom shed a few hours earlier. The door sprang open. The first years hurried inside, slamming it behind them.

Pressing his ear against the door, Corvus heard Filch question Peeves, Peeves trick him, and Filch curse quite explicitly as Peeves flew away. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Hey, Peeves didn't give us away, we should be okay now, Filch thinks this door is locked-"

"For good reason."

Corvus followed the direction Harry was looking in and came face to face with a three pairs of mad eyes and three mouths full of yellowish fangs that looked like each one could swallow him whole.

To hell with it, he thought to himself as the five Gryffindors screamed and fled the room, out of Filch and death, he'd take Filch. Little did he know his companions were all thinking the exact same thing.

* * *

Of all the rooms to end up in, they ended up the forbidden third floor corridor! Stupid, spoilt rich brat, almost getting them killed! Ron silently fumed as they stumbled into the common room. Honestly! That was the last time he ever listened to that brat.

He didn't consider how much trouble they would have been in if they were caught by Filch, but such is the way eleven-year-old Ronald Weasley saw the world. He collapsed into a chair by the fire, trying to catch his breath. "What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?"

"Didn't you see what it was standing on?" Hermione sat up straight suddenly, as though she had had a brilliant idea. "It was standing on a trap door."

Corvus glanced over at her. "Maybe it's guarding something."

She smiled, triumphant, for a second, but then it was gone, and she was humourless again. "I hope you're pleased with yourselves," she bit out, stalking over to the girls' staircase. "We could all have been killed, or worse… expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Hermione vanished to the girls' dormitories. _Stupid, stuck up, know-it-all girl! _"She needs to sort out her priorities."

Harry and Neville both nodded, but, oddly enough, Corvus shook his head, wet hair parted down the middle like a curtain.

"No, I think she's got the right idea."

* * *

**Sorry for not replying to reviews this week, stuff happened and I accidentally deleted all my emails. I am such a dork. Anyway, review please! Even though this chapter kind of... sucked.**


	12. Chapter Eleven: October 31st

**Why, here, my luvverlies, have a chapter. It's... weird. As far as I'm concerned. Also, I'm just polishing off a really strange oneshot for a dear friend who likes to play very loud music on the last day of term~**

**In this chapter, there are two sections from the same point of view. Please don't get confused.**

**This chapter is dedicated to HAGRID! Why? I HAVE NO IDEA!**

* * *

The next few weeks passed relatively uneventfully. Harry, Ron and Corvus managed to lose Gryffindor about thirty-odd points in Potions class (Corvus insisted it was simply for _existing_, and nothing to do with the fact that he had deliberately set fire to Snape's desk), Neville trailed around behind them like a lost puppy most days, and Hermione ignored them completely. Theo was also sulking; to hilarious splutters of indignation, he chose to sit with the usually solitary Adrian Pucey from third year at mealtimes instead of his year mates. According to Corvus, their fathers were friends, and so it was no real surprise that Theo would sit with someone he grew up with- someone who _didn't_ drag him out of bed at ungodly hours of the night to play a sport he hated.

Harry often entertained the idea of sitting at the Slytherin table at lunch one day, just to see what would happen, but eventually decided against it- that Flint boy, the fifth year, looked like he would murder them if they approached again. Corvus shrugged it off, but Ron was very specific: if they wanted to see the end of the week, they wouldn't bother the older Slytherins. Ron was convinced they were all dark wizards and would kill him as soon as look at him.

The second flying lesson was on a Friday afternoon two weeks after the first one. After reiterating the rules and stipulations from the previous lesson, Madam Hooch taught them for about half an hour before letting the better fliers play a mock Quidditch game while she helped the others.

Essentially, they were just flying around the tiny area she had assigned them, throwing the Quaffle to each other.

Harry was enjoying himself immensely. Despite having flown only once before, he had missed it; the wind rushing past him, his robes whipping out behind, darting and swooping through the air. when it came to all things magical, flying was definitely his favourite.

He stopped when he realised how high he was off the ground. Madam Hooch had not called him down, so he assumed he was still within the height range she had specified… but he was so _high_. He watched Draco pass the Quaffle to Blaise, who passed to Daphne. She, in turn, passed rather flamboyantly to Corvus, who passed to Ron with a throw so quick that Harry almost didn't see it. Tracey Davis almost fell off her broom in surprise when Ron caught it as easily as Corvus had thrown it. Harry laughed. He couldn't wait to learn to play Quidditch with his friends.

He turned his attention to the group with Madam Hooch. The three Gryffindors were in the air with the teacher. Neville appeared to be about to throw up, Dean was concentrating on his broom so hard he looked like he was trying to burn it up with his glare, and Hermione was holding onto her broom's handle for dear life as Madam Hooch attempted to adjust her grip. Theo was sat on the ground with those two huge boys- Crabbe and Goyle? He hadn't spoken to them before, so he wasn't even sure which was which- and the large girl who had helped Harry put back his library books yesterday, Millicent Bulstrode. She looked scary, but she was actually quite nice.

Harry wondered how many other people knew that.

A cry of alarm is what set events into motion. Harry looked up just in time to see something tumble out of Neville's hands and fall towards the ground. The Remembrall. There wasn't even a second to think about it. Harry reacted purely on instinct, flattening himself to the broom and tipping it forwards, shooting towards the ground at an alarming rate- he was almost there- he was going to crash- he stretched out his hand- his fingers closed tightly around the glass orb. Harry pulled up at the absolute last second, skimming the grass with his toes and coming to a halt a few feet away, clutching the Remembrall in his hand protectively. There was silence.

Someone began to clap.

* * *

"That was bloody amazing!"

Ron landed badly, tripped and stumbled, but managed to stay upright as he ran to his friend. "Harry, that was _bloody amazing_! Where'd you learn to _fly_ like that?"

"I, uh, didn't… I just, sort of, did it…" Harry stuttered, embarrassed. Ron couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Harry was a natural flier, and he was even better than they thought. If he, Ron, had tried that dive, he'd have broken his neck! It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, however, and Ron was back to treading water in a sea of awe.

"Really, Harry, that was so unreal," Corvus added, appearing next to them. Ron started. When had he gotten there? Was it his life's mission to give Ron a heart attack before the age of twelve? Corvus didn't seem to notice Ron's discomfort, or maybe he deliberately ignored it. "I've seen professional Quidditch players botch that dive. This is, what, the second time you ever flew?"

Any further congratulations were cut short by a sharp shout from not one voice, but two. "POTTER!"

* * *

"Stupid, foolish boy!" Hooch muttered as she escorted the first years to the broom shed. Harry had been stolen away by Professor McGonagall. Corvus certainly hoped they weren't going to expel him; those Muggles he lived with didn't sound very nice, as far as Harry described them. He sprinted to catch up with the flying instructor.

"Madam Hooch?" Corvus began hesitantly. "Madam Hooch, he _could_ have broken his neck, but he _didn't_. Isn't that why it's so brilliant?"

She watched him carefully for a minute before glancing away, her lips tugging upwards slightly into a half-smile. "Yes. Quite."

* * *

"You're joking."

She hated listening in. She really did. But Hermione Granger was having difficulty _not_ hearing what they were saying. Even if she was reading, she could still hear them. It was the same as the 'midnight flying' plan. But even if they were breaking the rules, she couldn't do anything about it- they'd probably just trick her into helping them again, and she'd get in trouble alongside them.

The redhead boy, Ronald, was talking now. He sounded incredulous. Hermione stubbornly fixed her eyes on her book and didn't look up. "You must be the youngest Seeker in about…"

"A century. Wood told me," finished Harry. Hermione sort of liked Harry; he was nice sometimes. When her bag split and her books went everywhere last week, he'd stopped to help her pick them up. It was the others that were a bad influence on him- Ronald, who was incredibly rude and loud, and that lazy boy, Corvus, who was so offhanded about everything she couldn't tell if he cared or _not_.

Perhaps if the three of them weren't so happy about breaking rules, she could be friends with them.

Corvus was the one to speak next. "That's crazy, first years are never allowed on the team! When do you start training?"

"Next week. It's supposed to be a secret though. Don't tell anyone."

Hermione pursed her lips disapprovingly, picked up her book bag, and left the hall. _She_ certainly wasn't going to tell anyone.

Not when Harry was being _rewarded_ for nearly killing himself.

* * *

Hermione hardly noticed the weeks whizzing by until it was Halloween. As the saying goes, time flies when you're having fun. Well, not as much fun as she would have liked, she had been hoping to make some friends at this new school. She supposed this was to be expected, however, as she wasn't really sure how one went about making friends, having never really had any before. Either way, she enjoyed spending time in the library, soaking up knowledge like a sponge from dusty old tomes. It didn't matter if she was alone.

Then again, seven years was a long time to face alone…

She sighed and made her way to Charms. Hermione was good at Charms. Professor Flitwick was always giving her house points. Then again, those were usually the points those boys lost in Potions… especially that time a few weeks ago when they set fire to Professor Snape's desk. They lost fifty points for that and had detention for a week. Cleaning the dungeons with toothbrushes every evening was a fitting punishment, she thought, even though it didn't get back the points or the Potions essay she'd spent three hours on.

Stupid boys.

And, speak of the devil- Ronald Weasley dropped, scowling, into the seat next to hers. He and his two friends had arrived late; out of the three, Hermione judged that Ronald had the best seat of those that were left. Harry was sitting with Seamus Finnegan, who was bound to blow something up, and Corvus had ended up with Lavender Brown (cooing and trying to play with his long hair). Unfortunately for Hermione, however, Ronald looked like he was going to make this lesson incredibly difficult.

* * *

"She's crying in the girls' bathroom, according to Parvati, or at least that's what Neville said," Corvus muttered to Harry while Ron stormed ahead to the Halloween Feast. "Girls do that. And she missed a whole afternoon of classes, too."

Harry sighed. Hermione had not been seen since Charms this morning. Ron had made a remark, a rather cruel remark in Harry's opinion, about her having no friends. Though he looked to be regretting it now. "Let's just get to the feast. I've never celebrated Halloween before. It should be fun."

An odd expression flitted across Corvus' face, but it was gone so quickly that Harry dismissed it as his own imagination.

The three boys walked the rest of the way to the Great Hall in silence, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. Harry was thinking about Hermione, who seemed not to know how to make friends. It reminded him a little of himself, before he met Corvus, Ron and Draco.

Unbeknownst to Harry, Ron really _was_ regretting what he'd said. She wasn't _that_ bad, not really, it was just that she was so like Percy it scared him, and also because he hated being told he was wrong… especially when he really _was_ wrong, like in Charms this morning.

Again unbeknownst to Harry, Corvus was thinking about something else entirely. He was thinking about Halloween. Or, more specifically, the 31st of October, 1981, the day when his dad became a murderer and his mother went crazy.

The silence lasted through the Feast. None of them noticed Neville sitting with them, or Draco spending an hour trying to catch Corvus' attention from across the hall. They were so deeply engrossed in their thoughts that only one thing could have brought them back to _right now_.

Perhaps luckily, perhaps unluckily, that 'thing' was about to turn around the lives of four people.

The doors to the Great Hall burst open. Professor Quirrell, with his odd-smelling turban askew, stumbled into the hall, and was met with stunned silence.

"TROLL!" he bellowed frantically. "TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!"

He collapsed in front of the teachers' table after imparting one last morsel of wisdom: "Just thought you ought to know."

* * *

**Please don't kill me? I had to end it there. I just had to. But now... now I get to write about TROLLS! *evil cackle***

**Next Chapter: A troll, Hermione, and... oh... hi, Professor Snape...**


	13. Chapter Twelve: Saving Hermione

**_-THIS IS NOT A SECOND UPDATE. I am so sorry, I couldn't just leave it after I discovered a chunk of it was in italics when it wasn't supposed to be... I have no idea how that happened. Well. Sorry again.-_**

**I like this chapter. Don't know why, it seems really bad to me, but I like it anyway. It's a few days later than I thought it would be because of that oneshot- I didn't want to post twice in one day, and then life happened for a little while, so yeah. Try and enjoy it~**

* * *

"I can't believe we're doing this! I swear, if we survive this, I'll never say anything horrible ever again…"

"Don't make promises you can't keep," snapped Corvus. Ron was really beginning to wear on his patience with his incessant whining- it reminded Corvus somewhat of Draco… Draco on a good day, anyway.

Harry slunk ahead of them, peering around a corner. It had been Harry's idea, really. Granger didn't know about the troll. Granger was in the first floor girls' bathroom. Granger had to be warned. And it was Ron's fault in the first place, so they were the ones who had to fetch her. Without being caught, seen, or crushed by a troll. Corvus would probably be angry if this wasn't so dangerous, because, of course, in Corvus' mind, the definition of 'dangerous' was incredibly similar to the definition of 'fun'.

Well, he was a _little_ bit angry.

Ron sent Corvus a glare at the exact same moment that Harry dragged them into an alcove behind a large stone griffin, whispering frantically. "There's someone coming!"

Corvus watched with unconcealed interest as Snape swept past them, turning a corner and vanishing from their sight. "Where do you think he's going?"

"Search me. He should be down in the dungeons, with the rest of the teachers, though," Ron muttered as they continued on their way to the girls' bathroom.

"Third floor, I'd guess," Harry said thoughtfully, but was almost immediately shushed by Corvus, who had heard more footsteps. They ducked behind a suit of armour, only to see that their 'pursuer' was none other than Hermione Granger herself, rubbing her puffy eyes and hugging her book bag to her chest.

"Hermione!" Harry hissed, beckoning her over. She stared at them in surprise but didn't move.

"Why are you whispering? Are you hiding from a teacher?"

Ron seized her arm, pulling her at speed along the corridor. Corvus and Harry hurried to catch up.

"Hermione, there's a troll running around the dungeons," explained Harry, "Everyone's been sent back to the common rooms. We've got to go."

Hermione looked, if possible, even more shocked by this. "A troll? How did a troll get in?"

"No idea, they're supposed to be really stupid."

There was a moment of silence.

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and dissolved into laughter. This was due to the fact that Corvus and Ron had just said the exact same thing at the exact same time, and were now glaring at each other with a ferocious intensity. It couldn't last, however, and the two purebloods soon joined in laughing, echoes bouncing off the walls and down the empty corridor.

This would be their potentially fatal mistake.

Minutes later, the group had managed to calm down and were once again steadily making their way towards Gryffindor Tower. Hermione wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her robe, growing sombre. "Why aren't you three in the common room with everyone else? If there really is a troll, it's really dangerous…"

The three boys looked at each other uncomfortably. Eventually, Corvus was silently elected to be the one to speak. "Well, you were kind of upset and we were going to find you to apologise… And then there was the troll, and you didn't know, so we thought we'd better find you…"

Hermione stared at the three boys for a few moments in bewildered silence before her face broke into the biggest grin Corvus had ever seen on a girl. "Thanks."

As they hurried on down the passageway, Corvus found himself wondering when he'd stopped thinking of her as Granger.

* * *

Just as the Gryffindors were turning the corner into the main corridor, Hermione's nose was assaulted by a terrible odour. It smelled somewhat like a rotten herring wrapped in old socks and smothered with mouldy cheese, then dunked in a clogged toilet. It was really quite revolting. She heard Ron gag beside her. "What is that smell?"

Harry shrugged. "No idea. Corvus?"

Corvus didn't answer.

"Corvus?"

Hermione, Harry and Ron turned to stare at their silent companion, only to find that he was chalk white, staring at something behind them. With a huge sense of foreboding, Hermione glanced over her shoulder.

And screamed.

It was over ten feet tall, with a huge, lumpy grey body, a tiny head, and a stench ten times worse than what Hermione had first smelt. The Gryffindors threw themselves to the sides just as a giant wooden club smashed into the ground where they had just been standing, leaving a spider web of cracks in the stone floor. The troll raised its club again, this time aiming for the suit of armour Harry and Ron had ducked behind.

The armour crumpled against the wall, but the two boys were no longer behind it. They were now sprinting down the corridor, alongside Corvus and Hermione, who had dropped her book bag so as not to ruin her books in the inevitable bloodshed.

"I think," Harry ducked just in time to avoid a vicious swipe from the lumbering troll's club, "I think the troll's left the dungeons!"

"I'd never have guessed!" replied Corvus breathlessly. He threw out an arm and knocked Hermione out of the way of another swing. "How did it find us?!"

Hermione scrambled to her feet and kept running, brain working a mile a minute. Why would the troll attack them? How did it even know they were there? They'd met up outside the bathrooms, the boys had told her about the troll, and then… "Of course! It heard us laughing!"

"Laughing?" Ron yelped incredulously as they skidded around a corner, "Why would it attack us for laughing?"

"I don't know, but we weren't exactly quiet, were we?"

Suddenly, Ron stopped dead. The other three first years couldn't stop in time and ended up crashing into him, ending up in a tangled heap on the floor. Corvus extricated himself from the pile faster than should be humanly possible, glaring at Ron. "Why did you stop?"

"Dead end," Ron replied in a shaky voice, pointing at the solid stone wall that blocked their path. Hermione's heart sank. The troll grunted in triumph and swung its club towards them. She screamed and flattening herself against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut.

Not a second later, Hermione heard a dull thump. She opened her eyes enough to see that the club hadn't hit anyone dead on, but it had definitely clipped Corvus, who was struggling to drag himself back to his feet while simultaneously clutching a gash on the side of his head. She instinctively placed herself in front of him as the troll raised its club and readied herself for impact, when the troll let out a high-pitched howl and lost interest in its prey on the ground.

Hermione looked up. Later in life, she would describe the sight with no small amount of accompanying laughter; Harry had, it seemed, sneaked around behind the troll and taken a flying leap at it in an attempt to stop it pulverizing his friends. He was clinging to its neck, but what the four would really laugh about in days to come was this- somehow, Harry had managed to stick his wand up its nose. The scholar in Hermione briefly wondered how the wand could go that far in without stabbing the troll in the brain. Again, later, she would discover that this was because a troll's brain is smaller than its eye, and situated right at the back of the incredibly thick skull.

Of course, right now, Hermione had more pressing issues. For example, the troll that was now holding Harry by the ankle and trying to hit him with its club. She reached into her robes for her wand.

It wasn't there.

"Someone _do something_!" Harry shouted, narrowly avoiding the club by curling in on himself in mid-air.

Hermione looked at Ron helplessly. "I must have left my wand in my bag!"

"What do I do?" cried Ron, panic-stricken. Harry dodged the club again, but it seemed like he was getting weaker, slower. This time it clipped him on the shoulder and he cried out.

"Anything!"

"_Incendio_!" came a voice from behind Hermione. A thin stream of fire hit the arm of the troll that was holding Harry, causing the troll to shriek and let go of his ankle, and the Boy-Who-Lived appeared to fall in slow motion as Hermione dove forwards to catch him; another shout, not a second after the first, this time from Ron, of "_Wingardium Leviosa_!", that raised the troll's club above its head. Then time crashed back into focus as Hermione and Harry crashed to the floor. Gosh, Harry sure was light.

A resounding crack filled the corridor as Ron dropped the spell, and the club. The troll pitched back and landed with a thud, its tiny head hitting the floor with another sickening crack.

Deafening silence filled the hallway.

Harry stumbled to his feet and pulled Hermione to hers. "Thank you… for catching me, I mean, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Hermione whispered, "You're very light."

"Thanks… And thanks, Corvus, and Ron…"

"Harry, get your wand," Ron said quietly. All four of them were still in shock. Harry complied, pulling his wand out of the troll's nose with a disgusting squelch. It looked like it was covered with lumpy grey papier**-**mâché.

"Troll bogeys," Harry explained calmly, seeing the looks on their faces. Hermione and the other two boys let out a collective "ew!".

Hermione grimaced. "It looks like you could use it as wallpaper paste, Harry. Just wipe it off and let's get to the Hospital Wing."

"Yeah, my brain is leaking out my skull," Corvus added, staggering slightly. Ron ducked under his arm and held him steady while Hermione inspected the sluggishly bleeding wound.

"Doesn't look like you're about to die, but I'll bet you have concussion. Come on. I have to collect my bag, too."

That's when they heard the footsteps.

* * *

The loss of blood was making everything kind of hazy. The edges of Corvus' vision were blurred, and everything sounded muffled and far away, like he was listening to it through thick glass. He could vaguely recognise Professor McGonagall's reprimanding voice, and Professor Quirrell's stutter; he knew the third voice, but when it came to remembering the owner, he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Still being supported by Ron, he unsteadily lifted his free hand and pressed it against the side of his head. No, he couldn't even fully make out how bloody his hand was when he pulled it away, but he _could_ see that he was shaking badly. He barely heard Professor McGonagall's gasp of horror before he fell into the dark, empty depths of unconsciousness.

It seemed like only a moment later that he woke up. Everything was still blurry, but noticeably whiter.

This time when he touched where the wound should be, he found a thick bandage. It had trapped some of his hair, making it stick out at an odd angle, despite its length. Corvus snorted at the mental image.

"He's awake! Ron, Hermione, he's awake!"

Three faces swam into focus above him. Corvus could make out Hermione's giant hair, Ron's head of red, and Harry's bright green eyes. He smiled weakly. "What… what happened?"

"Well," Ron began hesitantly, "McGonagall, Quirrell and Snape showed up, and McGonagall was shouting at us, and then your hand was covered in blood, and you stared at it for a second and then you went sort of limp, like you were dead…"

Hermione took over at this point, speaking fast enough that Corvus had to concentrate quite hard to understand what was being said. "Well, Professor McGonagall was really angry; we were telling her what happened, when you collapsed. I thought you might be dying. It was really scary. Professor Snape conjured a stretcher and brought you up here…"

"If it's any consolation, Professor McGonagall didn't take any house points off us," Harry added in almost a whisper. "Because you were injured, and also because we managed to _beat_ the troll. But she did say that first years shouldn't know fire charms like that one you used."

Corvus snorted. "That's because I looked it up when we were with Theo in the library, ages ago. You were doing your Potions essay, remember? I got bored. That's the first time I tried it, though. It was the first thing that came into my head. But Ron was brilliant."

"First thing that came into my head, too," Ron muttered modestly, but, with his vision clearing, Corvus could see that Ron's ears had gone red.

Then a shocking revelation hit Corvus very hard in the forehead. "Oh no…" he whispered, the colour draining from his face. "They've sent letters home, haven't they?"

Realisation dawned on Harry and Ron's faces, while Hermione nodded, blissfully unaware of the connotations. "My parents are going to be furious with me."

"My grandmother," Corvus whispered shakily, "Is going to _kill_ me."

* * *

**I am... so cruel it hurts me. So, I originally wasn't going to include the last section, but you got it as a present since it was three days late. And more fire~ Because Corvus really, really, REALLY likes fire.**

**Please review~**


	14. Chapter Thirteen: A Filler Chapter

_I'm not going to bore you with excuses, just be aware that there was a situation which prevented me from uploading and that this is not the original copy of this chapter. I'm very sorry. I'm especially sorry if parts of this make no sense.  
_

_It just occured to me that the events of this chapter and the one before happen in the fortnight before I was born. Random. That makes me feel really young, actually, despite having felt really old just a few minutes ago when I realised that I'm going to be eighteen soon. Ew._

_This chapter is dedicated to GatsbyRose for letting me rant a bit and expecially for the word 'internetic', which is fabulous and I love it.  
_

* * *

Having spent the night in the hospital wing, obsessing over how furious his mother was going to be, Ron had completely overlooked the fact that secrets at Hogwarts do not stay secret for long. The four friends- he wasn't sure when he'd started thinking of Hermione as a friend, but he now found he sort of liked it- had made their way down to breakfast the following morning, with Corvus attacking his recently unbandaged hair with a comb and Hermione making disapproving sounds in her throat at the ferocity of his attack.

"Start at the bottom," she insisted, attempting to snatch the comb from Corvus' hand. "Start at the bottom, and comb little bits. Once you've got _those _tangles out, move up! Honestly! _Boys_."

At this, Harry interrupted with a "Hey! What did _we _do?", only to receive a calculating stare from their bushy-haired friend. Not a second later, it was Harry's turn to run from her, as she swiped the comb from Corvus and went straight for Harry's bird's nest 'do.

They sat down happily at the Gryffindor table, chattering about anything and everything. Ron found himself sat next to Hermione, while the other two sought shelter from her across the table. He didn't register Percy turning beetroot and getting up to lecture him, nor did he notice the twins tackling their brother to the ground, nor did he hear the rest of the Gryffindors start whispering about trolls and first years, nor did he see Professor McGonagall's disapproving expression or Dumbledore watching them with an inane smile on his face.

Sometime during the meal, he came into possession of a non-Howler reprimand from his mother- it seemed she'd been too relieved that they survived to be really angry.

Ron watched the others as the mail came and went. Harry didn't receive anything, though that wasn't surprising. He'd already told them that the Dursleys would probably be angry that he'd managed to _not _get killed. Hermione's letter from her parents was long and very tidy, as though it hadn't been written with a quill at all, but one of those by-row-pens that Dad was always going on about. In fact, Ron thought to himself, it probably had been. Corvus, however, grew edgier as the owls left the hall. It took Ron a moment to figure out why.

Corvus hadn't received a letter at all.

Maybe it would have made a difference, or maybe it wouldn't have, but at that moment Ron didn't say anything. Later in life, he would mention this day to his friends, only to discover that they all remembered it as vivdly as he did- though, this may have been because, ten minutes later, in double Potions, Neville blew up half the Potions dungeon, lost Gryffindor twenty points, and sent both Seamus and Dean to the hospital wing.

* * *

A week passed, and Ron gradually became aware that the Slytherins were ignoring them. For some reason this bothered Harry, while Hermione was uninterested and Corvus was quite prepared to let them be (he'd made it quite clear when Harry mentioned it that having spent the last ten years with them, he really didn't mind a respite of a week or two). Ron wouldn't have had much time to think about it even if he had cared, because it was getting colder outside and the twins kept teasing him about being "Hermione's knight in shining armour".

It was at times like these that Ron really envied his three best friends, none of whom had any siblings. It was too confusing to try to keep track of everything, especially with Harry's first Quidditch game coming up in two days and the Boy-Who-Lived's insistence that he was going to crash and burn. Ron just wasn't used to juggling things like this.

In fact, he'd begun to see it all as a big game of chess. Harry was the black rook, always moving in straight lines, only looking forward or back; Ron could tell that Harry, having been raised by muggles, still wasn't confident in the wizarding world. Hermione was the black bishop, avoiding the other pieces yet excelling by moving a different way, her strange and brilliant way of thinking like a witch and a muggle at the same time being her crowning glory. This made Ron a black knight, maneuvering in such a way that he could try to keep trackof it all. And, as much as Ron hated to admit it, dancing around the other pieces in peculiar ways was Corvus, the other black knight.

When he thought of things like this, Ron found it much easier to pinpoint where everyone else was in his life. Percy, the white bishop. Fred and George, the white knights. Theo Nott, who really wasn't all that bad, a black bishop like Hermione. But this comparison also gave rise to small anxieties. How would he know if white had really moved first? Who were the kings and queens? Who were the pawns?

More importantly, who were the players?

* * *

"I wrote to Mother about it."

"What?"

"About the troll. She says Great Aunt Walburga is furious."

Draco felt some sort of strange satisfaction at seeing Corvus squirm slightly in his seat. It was Friday morning, the day before the Quidditch season officially began, and Draco had finally received a reply to the letter he'd sent to his mother a week ago. When he'd heard about the Hallowe'en incident, he'd immediately told her everything, but apparently Great Aunt Walburga had received a letter from Dumbledore already anyway. Unfortunately, Dumbledore's letter hadn't told them that the Gryffindors had spent the night in the hospital wing.

Draco did feel a _little _guilty about the amount of trouble he might have just got his cousin into.

But only a little.

He stirred his potion lazily, knowing that he'd get good marks today no matter what he did, and continued to watch his cousin. Honestly. A fully grown mountain troll. That was even stupid by _Corvus_' standards. "I heard she didn't even send you a Howler. You're going to be in so much trouble when we get home."

"Who says they'll even remember?" Corvus threw something violently into his cauldron. Professor Snape took this opportunity to announce that Corvus and Harry's potion was no good and vanished it, leaving the two with nothing to do for another hour. Draco held back the urge to laugh. When it came to destroying morale for the Gryffidnor-Slytherin Quidditch match tomorrow, his godfather was undefeated.

"She'll remember. She always does."

Draco calmly added the next ingredient to his potion and received three points to Slytherin for his trouble. They both knew it was true- the Black matriarch rarely forgot a misdemeanour, especially on Corvus' part, and he would definitely pay for it when they went home for Christmas. Draco allowed himself a smug smirk of vaguely bitter victory when Corvus didn't reply.

* * *

Saturday dawned bright and very, very cold.

At eleven o'clock, Ron stumbled over to his friends beneath the Quidditch stands, thoroughly out of breath. At Hermione's "Do you have it?", he held up a folded bedsheet, which was immediately seized by the muggleborn. The three friends hurried up the stands to where Dean, Seamus and Neville had saved them a good place to observe Harry's first game.

* * *

_This one's relatively short and rubbish since I want to at least try and salvage the first Quidditch game, which was originally planned to be split between two chapters. A large chunk of it is already written, now if I could just get to it...! I'll try and update by Monday and then we should be back to weekly updates. _

_Next time: Hermione plays with fire, Corvus frightens Scabbers, Harry learns why everybody hates Flint and Ron makes an enemy of the moving staircase._

_Review please~~  
_


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Blaise's Big Moment

**I understand that I promised you a week. It has been a week. ...a very LONG week. A week that was considerably longer than any other week of my entire life, spanning four months. I'm horrible. I know.**

**If you kill me you'll never get to find out what happens at the end. *shifty eyes***

**This chapter is dedicated to you. My readers. My readers who probably want to murder me right now. Sorry again. It's pretty short, probably full of errors, and it doesn't flow well, but this is what I've got.**

* * *

_Last Time:_

_Saturday dawned bright and very, very cold._

_At eleven o'clock, Ron stumbled over to his friends beneath the Quidditch stands, thoroughly out of breath. At Hermione's "Do you have it?", he held up a folded bed sheet, which was immediately seized by the muggleborn. The three friends hurried up the stands to where Dean, Seamus and Neville had saved them a good place to observe Harry's first game._

* * *

The excitable first years watched the two teams meet in the middle of the pitch. They could see Harry trailing behind his team-mates nervously. As Flint and Wood shook hands, Blaise leaned across to whisper in Draco's ear.

"I don't imagine their Keeper's going to be much good with a broken hand."

Draco snorted. It did look as though the two captains were trying to physically harm each other, teeth gritted and knuckles white. Something flashed on the opposite stand, catching Draco's eye. He stared at the banner proudly declaring 'Potter for President' above the crowd for several moments.

He never told Blaise why he suddenly dissolved into uncontrollable laughter before the Quidditch game even began.

* * *

The game started off well, with the Chasers shooting back and forth across the pitch. Hermione secretly enjoyed the commentary by Lee Jordan, a friend of Ron's brothers, finding it amusing, though she'd never admit it. He was being incredibly unprofessional, after all.

Harry was hovering high above the game, out of the way of the rather barbaric Bludgers, of which Hermione seriously disapproved. Honestly! Someone could get really hurt. Despite Ron's assurances that no one had ever died in a game of Quidditch, Hermione had her doubts. Particularly after the Slytherin Chasers had made it quite clear they didn't mind physically attacking the Gryffindor players.

The first goal of the game was scored by Angelina Johnson, a Gryffindor Chaser. Hermione noticed Corvus' cousin- who could miss him, with _that_ hair- on the stands across the pitch. From what she could tell, he didn't look very happy, though it made a strange sort of sense- Quidditch seemed to be an excessively popular sport, and Draco's team were ten points down.

"Budge up there, move along."

Hermione's scrutiny of the Slytherin supporter was interrupted as the huge gameskeeper, who she'd visited with her friends the previous day, shuffled into the stands beside them. Again, she was struck by the size of his beard, and could swear she heard a faint rustling, as though something were living inside.

"Bin watchin' from me hut, but it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd," Hagrid explained, and Hermione had to wonder if those giant binoculars had been made to order. Then again, it _was_ the wizarding world; that might be the normal size for binoculars here. There were still so many things she didn't know, after all.

"I hope Harry sees the Snitch first," Neville muttered to Hermione's extreme left. He was sandwiched between Ron and Dean now, as the young Gryffindors had squashed together to allow Hagrid some space.

There was a general murmur of agreement. Dean frowned. "The game ends when the Seeker catches the Snitch, right?"

The wizardborn among them nodded silently as their eyes returned to the game. Slytherin scored twice fairly, and once unfairly; it soon became clear to Hermione that Harry catching the Snitch would probably be the only way for the Gryffindor team to win the game. The Slytherins were definitely not above foul play.

The point was strengthened by Marcus Flint deliberately crashing into Alicia Spinnet to prevent her from scoring a goal.

Hermione shook her head. Wizards must certainly have thick skulls, to be able to take that kind of damage- but to play a sport like this, they probably also had smaller brains.

* * *

"Slytherin in possession - Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the -- wait a moment -- was that the Snitch?"

* * *

Potter dove.

Higgs followed, but he wasn't as fast. Not surprising, considering that his broom was a generation behind Potter's Nimbus Two Thousand. Higgs was falling behind. Potter reached out to grab the tiny, golden ball fluttering in mid-air-

WHAM.

The entirety of the Gryffindor stands screamed foul at the top of their lungs. Of course, Marcus had just blocked Potter on purpose, because it was obvious that Potter was far better than Higgs and had a far faster broom. Higgs would never have made it anyway. The NovaScream 2 was a Beater's broom, after all.

Blaise made sure to share this with his loyal stalker as she tried to shuffle even closer to him in the cramped stands.

"I don't know," Tracey muttered, biting her lip, "That looked… sort of dangerous, actually. I mean, it's never like that when _we_ play…"

_Of course_, Blaise thought to himself, _that's because we don't compete when we play for fun. Besides, there's usually only ten of us anyway. Actually, normally less than that._

Blaise watched uninterestedly as Gryffindor used their penalty to score another goal. His favourite part of Quidditch, when _he_ wasn't playing, of course, was the chase when the Snitch was finally spotted. Marcus had just ruined that for him; he'd have to come up with some sort of revenge, of course.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, was Blaise, that he only noticed the unfolding drama high above the game when Tracey clutched his jacket sleeve in excitement. "Blaise, look! Look what Potter's doing…"

Potter was swerving all over the place, barely holding onto his broom, rolling over and slowly flying higher and higher above the game. It was quite funny, actually, if he didn't consider that an acquaintance's life was in the balance. An acquaintance who could become very, very useful in the future.

In fact, Blaise didn't think it was Potter at all, probably someone jinxing him. He scanned the crowd for the signs- not blinking, muttering incantations, etcetera- and came up with two suspects, each as unlikely as each other.

Suspect number one: Professor Snape, Potions Master, friend of the family and highly unlikely to try and kill a student. Besides, if he was going to murder someone, it would be the student who set fire to his desk not a month ago, but Corvus looked perfectly fine over with the other Gryffindors. Well, most of the other Gryffindors. Granger had disappeared.

Suspect number two: Professor Quirrell, stutterer extraordinaire and the most boring teacher in school aside from Binns. Now there was an unlikely scenario. Why on earth would the resident coward-in-purple-turban want to jinx Potter? What would be the point?

Either way, someone was going to have to do something. Potter was hanging onto his broom with one hand, dangling perilously above the Weasley Beaters, who were trying to get closer so that they could catch him.

Blaise sighed. Sometimes, that someone just had to be you.

A simple Knockback Jinx, taught by Quirrell himself, knocked him headfirst into the row in front. Blaise smirked. It was good they hadn't been too far away from the teachers, after all.

And, oh, there was Granger, rushing past where Quirrell had been standing. Damn. If he'd left it, he could have gotten away with not helping a Gryffindor. Though, he might be able to use this to his advantage in years to come.

Blaise quietly chuckled at the misfortune of his head of house as Granger set fire to his robes from behind the stands. How she'd gotten there so fast, he didn't know, nor did he particularly care; it was just one of those things she _did_. Like studying and being a stickler for rules. Either way, both suspects had been taken care of, so the problem should sort itself out. Sure enough, high above the crowd, Potter clambered back onto his broom and proceeded to win the match in an unorthodox yet spectacular manner.

Most of the Slytherins were highly dismayed, muttering darkly about how it would have been better if Potter had died. Blaise was the only one who watched the entire drama from start to finish, though Tracey gave him a puzzled look later when he started sniggering on their way back into the warmth of their common room.

One day, several years from now, he would consider whether it was worth telling her the truth. And then he would think, "nah."

* * *

**Anyway. Yeah. That other stuff I promised? Next chapter. Should be up soon. Very soon. I owe it to you guys. And besides, if I take any longer, Jiang Quing is going to murder me brutally with her bare hands. Yeah. Um. I'll go now. Review please? Or is that too much to ask?**


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Another Filler Chapter

**Um. Hi. Are any of you still here? Um. Well. I lost the earlier copy of this chapter- I have no idea how, probably deleted it half-asleep or something, so this is what I've got. I'm sorry. Life's been sort of getting in the way. But I should be updating more often now... I won't promise anything, though. I'm notoriously bad at keeping promises, if you haven't noticed.**

* * *

"It was Snape. We saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

Harry wasn't in the least surprised to hear what Ron had to say about the Quidditch match. Snape seemed to have it in for him for some reason- it had never been fully explained to him- and he wouldn't put it past the man to jinx his broomstick. But trying to kill him? That didn't seem likely. He remembered seeing Snape's mangled leg on Hallowe'en, and the conclusions they had arrived at when he and his friends had discussed it.

Oh. Oh dear.

"Why would he do somethin' like tha'?"

"He tried to get past the three-headed dog on Hallowe'en," Harry blurted out. Truth was the best policy, after all. "It bit him. We think he tried to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid was vaguely outraged, but not for the reason that Harry thought he would be. He expected a 'Professor Snape wouldn't do that' or a 'don't jump to conclusions'. What they got was: "How do you lot know about _Fluffy_?"

"Fluffy," Corvus muttered in a disbelieving voice, eyebrow raised. "Its name is Fluffy."

"Yeah," Hagrid sounded simultaneously proud and flustered. "He's mine- bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year. I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the…"

He trailed off, as though realising for the first time that there were four very interested children in the room. He frowned. "I shouldn'a told you that."

"But Hagrid-"

"Now don' ask me any more," Hagrid interrupted gruffly. "That's top secret, that is. An' dangerous. Forget Fluffy an' what he's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel-"

Hermione made an interested sound. Hagrid caught himself again there, and shepherded the young Gryffindors out of the door, muttering _I shouldn'a told you that_ all the while.

* * *

The weather outside got progressively worse over the next week, prompting the four first years to hole themselves up in a corner of the library during most of their free time. They were determined to find out who Nicholas Flamel was; Hermione was sure she'd heard the name before, as were Ron and Corvus, and so they reread all of their assigned texts before scouring the pages of likely tomes in the library. She once suggested that they might find out faster if more people were helping, but the three boys quickly objected.

They didn't want to ask for help.

_Boys_.

Hermione, of course, wouldn't have minded researching with the aide of others. For example, she was sure Theo would have some idea where to look, and Daphne was a fast reader. Though, she had to agree that the other Gryffindor first years wouldn't be much help. Neville was already struggling with some of his classes and none of the others would pay attention long enough to find anything useful; of this she was certain.

And so they worked, fast approaching the Christmas holidays.

* * *

"I can't wait to get home," Hermione enthused as Corvus walked alongside her down the castle steps towards a fleet of horseless carriages. "I'm going to tell my parents everything. I can't wait to tell them about all our classes, and the library, and the grounds, and, and, I just can't wait."

Corvus wished he could share her enthusiasm. _His_ holidays were going to be filled with uncomfortable social functions and nothing but family, family, family. Not to mention the worry eating away at his insides of what, exactly, his grandmother's reaction to the troll incident was going to be. How angry was she? He didn't really want to know.

"Of course, I'll be telling them all about you and Harry and Ron," Hermione continued. This caught his attention. She was blushing slightly. "I've never had many friends, really, so they're going to be happy I finally made some. Good ones. I mean, even if it wasn't, exactly, maybe, the best situation, um…"

Ah. Back to the troll. How he wished it had been a Chihuahua, or something. Or that he hadn't been stupid enough to get clobbered by it. Corvus forced himself to reply, pasting a smile on his face. "Glad we could help."

Between them, they managed to haul their cases into a carriage and climb up themselves. They were joined by a pair of Ravenclaw third years shortly after, and the carriage trundled on down to the station; Corvus was lost in his mind most of this time, tugging on the ends of his hair with one hand and pretending to listen to Hermione's account of a boy who'd bitten a hole in her dad's hand the previous Christmas.

He was in a lot of trouble, that was for sure. His grandmother was going to be furious. More furious than she had ever been, certainly.

It wasn't until they were boarding the train that Hermione noticed he wasn't paying attention.

"Hey!" she snapped her fingers in front of his face, eyebrows raised. "Are you alright? You don't look all that excited."

"I'd rather be at Hogwarts for Christmas," Corvus replied. They settled near the back of the train, shoving their cases in the overhead rack. Corvus relaxed back in his seat. "I don't want to go home. Not really."

Hermione bit her lip. "Why not?"

Corvus was saved from having to answer by the door sliding open.

"Um, can we sit here?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Hermione said distractedly. She was still looking at Corvus like he was a particularly intricate puzzle she absolutely had to figure out. He didn't think he was that complicated, not really. He just didn't want to face his grandmother. See? Simple.

In piled Neville, along with Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff. The distraction they brought was very welcome, as were Su Li and Mandy Brocklehurst from Ravenclaw, who joined them a few minutes later. A lively game of exploding snap and various discussions about their holiday homework took Hermione's attention away from the situation at hand long enough for her to forget about it, and Corvus breathed a sigh of relief.

That is, until they arrived at Platform Nine And Three Quarters, and he saw who was waiting on the platform for him, dressed in a long black dress, a thick cloak and a very, very pointed hat, her hair in a severe bun and her hands resting on an ivory cane.

Grandmother.

* * *

**I love you all? Yeah, it's short, and filler-y, and bad. But, well, my brain is mush. And well. Yeah. Um.**

**Next chapter: the holidays. Corvus writes to Hermione. Hermione writes to Harry. Harry writes to Corvus. Hermione writes to Ron. Ron writes to his mother.  
**


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Christmas

**Please don't kill me, I'm ****trying something new. This also allows for the possibility of my later including something that this story is sadly lacking in- flashbacks! Anyway. Fast update because, between them, the last chapter and this one just about make for a decent single update ^^;;**

**JQ, I hope you enjoyed/are enjoying your holiday. If not, um, I'll try to send you cookies. By owl post.**

**

* * *

**

Dear Hermione

I'm sorry about running away on the train. My grandmother is angry enough at me already without seeing me with all of you. Not that I don't like you, it's just that she's very strict about some things. A lot of people are. It isn't that important, really, but she doesn't like muggleborns. Don't worry, I like you. You're a good friend.

I'm in a lot of trouble for Hallowe'en, so I probably won't be writing often. Grandmother won't let me out of her sight unless she's sent me to my room, and my window is set so that I can't get an owl in there. I will see if I can take a look in some of the books in the study, though, in case there's anything about Nicholas Flamel in them.

I hope you enjoy your holidays. Tell your parents I said Merry Christmas.

Oh, and send any replies via Harry. Sometimes she checks my mail.

Corvus

* * *

Dear Harry

I hope you're having a good holiday. Found anything yet? Corvus is going to take a look in the books at his house, as well. See if you can get into the Restricted Section- I bet there's heaps of information in there.

Do you know, the funniest thing happened on the train. I was talking to two girls from Ravenclaw, Su and Mandy. Corvus and Neville were right there. Then, when the train pulled in to King's Cross, they both grabbed their things and ran out of the door! In opposite directions! I couldn't believe it. I shall definitely ask Neville all about it when the holidays are over.

Corvus wrote me an apology letter. He says that his grandmother is very angry with him, and he didn't want her to see him with us because it might make her angrier.

She sounds frightful. I'm really not sure it's common practice for her to read his mail, do you? My parents wouldn't dream of it. They respect my privacy. Sometimes too much.

Anyway, he says I shouldn't write to him, so could you please write and tell him that I don't mind? My parents say Merry Christmas, to everyone, as well.

Have a fun holiday, and give my best to Ron!

Love Hermione

* * *

Dear Corvus

I got a letter from Hermione. She says hi, and she doesn't mind. I think she's a bit scared of your grandma. Her parents say 'merry christmas'.

Don't worry, my uncle goes through my stuff all the time. Hagrid had to give me my Hogwarts letter because my uncle kept burning them every time they came through the door. I thought he'd gone crazy. Sometimes I wish he had. It would have been funny. Funnier, I mean.

I'll see you when you get back to school. Try not to let everything get you down.

Found anything on Flamel yet?

From Harry

* * *

Dear Ron

My parents suggested that I go to the local library when I mentioned Nicholas Flamel. They're dentists, so they don't know much about this sort of thing. I'm not sure I'll find anything, so I've asked them if we can go to Diagon Alley. I'll take a look in Flourish and Blotts.

You can't open your presents until Christmas day, remember. I hope you both enjoy them, I'm not good at buying presents.

I had an idea about the Restricted Section. If you map out the route during the day, it shouldn't be a problem to go at night, when Madam Pince isn't there. You'll have to be careful of Filch and Mrs Norris but it'll be easier during the holidays. There's hardly anyone still at school, if the amount of people on the train is anything to go by. It will be harder when there are more people around, so try to go before the end of the holidays.

Have a fun Christmas!

Love Hermione

* * *

Dear Mum and Dad and Ginny and Charlie

How is Romania? It's snowing here. We had a snowball fight this afternoon. Me and Harry won.

Thanks for the presents. I'm wearing my jumper right now. Fred and George keep switching theirs to confuse the teachers. Thanks for sending Harry one, he was really happy when he opened it. He hasn't taken it off since. He says thanks for the jumper and the fudge. His aunt and uncle sent him some muggle money, which he said I could have. It's such a weird shape!

Hermione sent me a big box of Bertie Botts and Corvus sent me a journal. I don't know what I'm going to write in it.

Thanks for the gloves, Charlie. They're really cool. I wore them today, they're really comfortable.

Have fun in Romania. Ginny, try not to get eaten by any dragons.

I'll write again soon.

Ron

* * *

**Yes. Well. The next chapter will be long. I will make it so.**

**Next chapter: the end of the Christmas holidays. Ron offers to break Harry's leg. Corvus and Neville bond.  
**

**Now watch, as I beg for reviews! *grovels*  
**


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Clash of the Grannies

**I am alive. I do not own Harry Potter. My soul belongs to any readers who remain after all this time. JQ, I miss you why are you all the way at your house :( **

**That is all.**

* * *

December thirty-first dawned cold and silent in Grimmauld Place. It was a generally quiet area with children who mostly behaved themselves (except for the sisters who lived on the top floor of the house on the end, but they were almost in a different street. Besides, that's a story for another day) and so only very solemn games were played outside that morning. Two girls from number fourteen had brought a skipping rope, and the half a dozen other children were singing a very quiet skipping song as they took turns to play.

Corvus Black, watching from his bedroom windowsill, thought it looked very, very dull. Then again, he didn't really have much room to talk there; he was locked in his room until his grandmother saw fit to let him out. Kreacher had already brought up his breakfast, porridge with dried fruit and honey along with a glass of orange juice. This was a giant step up from the dry cornflakes he'd been eating for breakfast at the beginning of the holidays, and he figured it probably meant his grandmother was almost ready to forgive him.

Unfortunately, he still had at least one great hurdle- the New Years Ball. It was the only night of the year that she allowed him to stay up past half nine, and that was only because everyone else's children were there as well. Draco would be there, and Theo and Blaise and all the other purebloods. Generally, Theo would fall asleep at about half ten. Blaise would spend the evening scouting out potential stepfathers as his mother danced with every rich bachelor in the room. Draco would stick to his parents like glue- well, usually, but there _was_ that one party where they'd guessed shoes under the buffet table- and Daphne would talk with the ladies about The Way Of The Pureblood Woman, whatever that was.

And Corvus would sulk in the corner, bored out of his mind, eating cheese and pineapple cubes on cocktail sticks and wishing he was anywhere but there.

He had to behave himself if he wanted his freedom back, though. So, no sulking. No arguments. No teasing Draco about being a Mummy's boy. Seen and not heard.

He couldn't wait to get back to school.

* * *

"So, what do you think?"

Daphne surveyed the room critically. The decorations, gold and silver and bronze to bring in the new year, were a little on the tacky side. The refreshments table was too tall for any of the children; the wine selection was within easy reach of smaller hands. She could already tell that Millie was going to spend the evening making friends with the far too conspicuous house elves, and the dance floor itself ought to have been larger. The safety wall around the balcony could easily be scaled by one of the children with less common sense. (Daphne distinctly remembered an incident with Blaise, Corvus, a bet, and a seventh floor window no more than a year ago. It hadn't ended well.)

It was a disgrace, as far as Daphne was concerned. But, of course, she reminded herself as her younger sister smoothed down their matching silver satin dresses, Daddy wasn't asking for her opinion.

She smiled sweetly up at him. As he smiled back, oblivious and happy, she mentally gave herself an award for her acting skills. When she was old enough, she was going to arrange to have the New Years Ball held at the Greengrass Manor, and she'd show them all how a proper party was supposed to be. _Honestly_.

Daphne glanced over at Astoria when she twirled one of her older sister's ringlets round a small, delicate finger. "What is it?"

"They're here," Astoria whispered excitedly, a bright smile blossoming on her face. Daphne turned her gaze to the mingling crowd throughout the room.

First, she spied the Malfoys, the object of Astoria's admiration- the family which the ten-year-old would someday be a part of. Then there were the Notts, Theo and his father; the Crabbes and the Goyles, the six of them taking up enough space for twice as many people; the Davis family, Mr and Mrs Davis with their elder son and three younger daughters; Blaise and his mother, ever the femme fatale in low-cut wine red; the Bulstrodes, all unfortunate in the looks department but wonderful people. The Minister and his wife were conversing with a toad-faced woman in a pink dress. Mr Crouch stood in the corner, looking ominous. The Puceys toured the room, smiling pleasantly and looking like the perfect family- though Daphne knew that both parents were having numerous passionate affairs, and so did their son, Adrian. There were the Flints, and the McLaggens, oh, and there were the Parkinsons.

All in all, it was a typical dull party. Daphne sighed, sipping from her glass of water. She was _so bored_.

That is, until Walburga Black swept regally through one of the doors in a black velvet dress, one hand on an ornate cane, her grandson trailing behind her. This, in itself, was not unusual, nor particularly interesting.

Except that Augusta Longbottom, clothed in deep purple, silk purse under her arm, was sweeping in through the other door, _her_ grandson trailing behind _her_. Their eyes met. Their expressions morphed into glares. Their grandsons cringed.

Daphne absolutely _loved_ fireworks.

* * *

_This is why I wanted to stay at home_, Neville thought to himself as he edged away from the confrontation.

_Confrontation_. There really wasn't any other word for it; not that Neville could think of, anyway. It wasn't an argument, it wasn't a debate, and it certainly wasn't a _conversation_. Gran and Mrs Black were just sort of facing off again, as they always did. Thinly veiled insults and taunts practically shot across the few metres between them- Neville could almost imagine it as a duel, but with words instead of spells. He didn't even know what half of those things _meant_.

Looking away from his gran, Neville realised that everyone was staring. He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment… until he caught sight of Corvus Black doing the exact same thing just a short way away. The other boy looked up, just for a split second, and their eyes locked. A brief smile. A mouthed apology.

The same.

Neville checked that no one was looking at him- he'd be in so much trouble if he wandered off, but he really hated being in the centre of attention, even if it wasn't him people were watching- and quickly hurried over to a deserted corner of the room. He did have to glance over his shoulder a few times to make sure Corvus was following, though. They didn't exactly know each other very well.

Clearly the devolution into attacks against each woman's respective sons/daughter-in-laws was enough to convince Corvus to attempt escape.

"Sorry about all this," the other boy said quietly. "Why they can't just learn to ignore each other I don't know."

Neville let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, I know."

"I may have misjudged you, Neville," Corvus grinned at him, one hand reaching up to straighten the black tie he was wearing. "I thought you just didn't like parties."

"I don't," Neville assured him. "I hate them. I wish I was at home with Trevor."

Corvus smiled. Neville could only guess at what he was thinking; he imagined it probably had something to do with 'The Magical Disappearing Trevor', the title Dean had coined for the toad that just kept hopping away whenever they took their eyes off him. Sometimes, Neville did find himself wishing that Trevor could be a little more like Ron's rat Scabbers, who could usually be found curled up on someone's bed, sleeping the day away without a care in the world.

"Six years I've known you. Six years," Corvus said suddenly, "and until September I never even spoke a word to you. I've been missing out."

Neville blinked. That was… unexpected, but undeniably true- the part about not speaking to each other, anyway. Even at school they didn't exactly socialise. Corvus was always with Harry, Ron and Hermione, off doing whatever it was that they did when no one was looking, and Neville mostly trailed about behind Dean and Seamus. Usually, the only interaction the two of them had outside of lessons was in the evening, when Hermione was helping Neville with his homework and Ron was teaching Harry how to play Gobstones.

Truth be told, he really didn't know Corvus or Harry or Ron very well at all.

Corvus nodded to himself. "We need to spend more time together."

Neville smiled. Maybe they did.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts…

"See, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad!"

A groan. "Ron, the mirror hasn't got anything to do with my nightmares…"

"Liar! It's only since you found it you've been having nightmares."

A sigh. "Leave it, will you?"

A huff. "Alright. Fine."

"Have you done any of the Christmas homework yet?"

"You know I haven't."

"…You know it's in for Monday, right?"

A shrug. "Hermione can help us with it when she gets back on Saturday."

"I don't think she will. We haven't even found out anything about Flamel…"

A brief, contemplative silence.

"Here's an idea. What if… we _couldn't_ find out about Flamel?"

"Ron, that's mad… Tell me more."

"Well, what if one of us was in the Hospital Wing?"

A raised eyebrow. "What?"

"Like, if I broke my leg, or if I broke your leg…"

"Ron, you are not breaking my leg just so that you can copy Hermione's homework."

"But Madam Pomfrey can fix it right up again!"

"Then would there be any point in doing it in the first place?"

"…No… I guess not."

"Get your Charms book, Ron."

* * *

**I lied. No long chapter. However, my HP muse has returned to me (with a holiday tan, the bastard) and so I *should* be writing more soon.**

**Next chapter: Harry, Ron, Hermione and Corvus are reunited. Neville provides the key to Flamel's identity. More from the Marauders' diaries. Scabbers sleeps in some unexpected places.**


End file.
